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The sound of classroom chatter and rummaging through rucksacks for supplies greeted Remus as he pushed open the heavy wooden door to the Potions classroom, slightly winded and just barely on time; Madam Pomfrey had delayed his leaving the Hospital Wing after the full moon, and he’d had to take the stairs two at a time to not be late. He scanned the room to find his friends, took the empty seat next to Sirius, and wrote off the sudden pounding in his chest as exertion from running.
“Alright, Moony?” asked Sirius. “I wondered if you were skiving off Potions today. Would’ve made us all very proud.”
“Fine – just got held up by Madam Pomfrey – fussing more than usual,” said Remus, catching his breath. He unpacked his supplies hurriedly.
“Now, class, listen closely! Today’s assignment is a touch more difficult than last week’s, so you’ll be working in pairs, but you’ll find that even when brewed with another person, this particular potion has a very personal element to it,” said Professor Slughorn, with a gleam in his eye.
James raised an eyebrow – personal? Remus shrugged. Sirius made a face, but Remus couldn’t tell what he was saying with it; James and Sirius had a language all their own. Remus turned back to Professor Slughorn.
“You’ll find the instructions,” he said, tapping the blackboard with his wand, “on the board, but there are more detailed descriptions in the textbook. If you have any questions, you may come to me, but I suggest you work it out with your partner if possible. You won’t be able to ask a Professor in your N.E.W.T.s,” he said, chuckling. “Good luck! Choose your partners and get to work!”
Peter turned to James immediately. “James,” he said, desperately, “I’m rubbish at Potions and you got full marks last class, can you partner with me today?”
“Sure, mate,” said James with a shrug. “Not sure how good I’ll be at this one, though, it looks bloody difficult.”
He was right. The curling script on the blackboard listed more ingredients than usual, with very particular stirring patterns – and still no indication of what Slughorn meant by “personal.”
“Brilliant, Moony, that leaves us then,” said Sirius with a grin, and Remus’ stomach gave another lurch; one he couldn’t write off as relating to running, having been seated for some time.
“Looks like it,” Remus said, forcing what he hoped was a casual smile. Bollocks. “What page did he say? I must have missed it.”
“Two hundred...something. I wasn’t listening.” Sirius leaned back in his chair.
“Typical,” Remus snorted.
Sirius took the textbook from Remus, skimming through the index. “Two-seventy. See! I was half-right.”
Remus smiled, and turned to the correct page. Amortentia was written across the top in thick block letters.
“This is –” Remus began, but from two seats away a flabbergasted James cut him off.
“A love potion,” he sputtered.
“Oho! Now, don’t go getting any ideas, lads!” said Slughorn, stopping at their desks. “Amortentia is incredibly powerful and highly dangerous – and besides that, it doesn’t create love. It creates obsession. It’s not to be taken lightly,” he warned. “And its effects are obvious; believe me, a professor can spot it and you’ll go straight to detention.”
"Of course, Professor," James said, blushing as Slughorn walked away from them.
"Better brew it correctly, Prongs, don't want to go poisoning Evans now," Sirius said, poking James between the ribs.
James scowled and kicked Sirius’ stool.
Remus looked up two tables over to where Mary and Lily were working on their potion. He expected to see Lily staring daggers at James, but he was surprised to see her blushing and turning away from them, while Mary held back giggles. He’d noticed Lily softening up towards James lately; Remus smiled, hoping they were finally reaching a turning point in James’ endless pining.
“Think they’ll get together for real soon?” Remus asked, quietly enough that James wouldn’t hear.
“Moony, don’t be ridiculous –” Sirius started, but was interrupted by Slughorn inspecting their ingredients.
“All’s well over here? Any questions before you get started?” he asked.
“Professor,” said Remus. “Could you explain what you mean by this potion being ‘personal’?”
Slughorn smiled. “Certainly, my boy. Amortentia takes on a particular scent to each person who encounters it. So even when brewed by two wizards, each of you will respond to it completely differently. Fascinating! Now – get brewing!” Slughorn left, surveying the room to see other students’ progress.
“Weird,” Sirius said, chopping up dandelion roots into quarter-inch pieces. “I’ll do this bit – d’you want to start adding the pomegranate juice?”
“Sure,” said Remus, but he wasn’t really listening. It was just his luck that on the day he partnered with Sirius it would be a love potion. At least it was something particular to each wizard – maybe he could still get out of this with his dignity intact. Lately his feelings toward Sirius had been harder to ignore, but if there was one thing Remus Lupin had mastered, it was denial and deflection, and he intended to deny this for a long, long time – forever, probably.
“Moony? Pomegranate juice?” Sirius asked, and Remus realized he’d been staring blankly at the cauldron, lost in thought.
“Oh,” he fumbled, “Yeah, sorry.” He reached across the table for the tiny bottle, grazing Sirius’ hand in the process, and Sirius dropped his knife.
“Sorry,” he said, again, but he kept staring at Sirius, who was very determinedly continuing to chop the roots. The flush on Sirius’ face was from the heat of the cauldron fire, surely. He looked beautiful, though, in the light from the flames; his hair slipped out from behind his ear and into his face, and Remus felt the most bizarre urge to tuck it back for him. He felt his face redden and turned back to the cauldron, carefully tipping out seventeen drops of juice at last. Lupin, pull yourself together. He’s your best friend.
Sirius added the roots, then the ashwinder eggs, and Remus kept track of how many clockwise and counterclockwise stirs they had done, and before long, the potion had turned a shimmery off-white and steam rose in tight spirals.
“This looks right – I think we’ve actually done it right,” said Remus, a bit surprised.
“Yeah, it looks just like the drawing in the book,” said Sirius. “Well done, Moony.”
The steam rose higher, and Remus was suddenly hit with the smell of leather – like a well-worn, old leather jacket. He froze. Of course it would be Sirius’ jacket. But the smells kept coming: a hair pomade he knew Sirius used, despite his swearing that his hair was naturally that perfectly smooth; and the admittedly somewhat unpleasant smell of Padfoot, perhaps after running through the Forbidden Forest. Remus thanked Merlin that Sirius couldn’t smell it too. He looked over at Sirius, who had turned rather red again – what was he smelling?
At the next table, Remus could tell Peter and James had got it right too. Remus heard Peter chattering about how his smelled just like the perfume of a girl in Ravenclaw, and James muttered something about a Muggle shampoo, running a hand through his hair almost compulsively and pointedly not looking at Lily’s table. Peter turned to Remus and Sirius excitedly.
“We’ve got it right! What do yours smell like?”
Remus’ eyes widened and he panicked, searching for anything to say but the truth.
“Er, mine is – books,” he said, lamely. He hoped that would sound dull enough that no one would be interested in knowing more.
“Books?” said Peter, laughing. “Classic, Moony. What about you?” Peter looked at Sirius.
For a split second, Remus could have sworn Sirius looked as flustered as Remus felt. It must have been a fluke, though, because Sirius grinned and gracefully leaned back in his chair, quite at ease. “I don’t know, Wormtail. Why don’t you have a guess?”
Peter squinted for a moment, then guessed: “It’s Marlene, isn’t it? Something about Marlene?”
Sirius winked, and James and Peter laughed, and Remus felt a stab of jealousy towards Marlene McKinnon.
James and Peter turned back to their own potion. Remus turned to Sirius to say something, but saw that the smile from seconds ago had already faded from his face. He looked uneasy and nervous – the expression looked out of place on someone so confident. Remus was quite certain Sirius had lied to Peter, but before he could ask, class ended, and Sirius bolted from the desk without so much as a goodbye.
James saw him leave and pulled Remus aside as Peter packed up his supplies.
“What’s up with Padfoot?”
Remus shrugged. “No idea.” He paused for a moment, and then spoke more quietly. “I think he wasn’t telling the truth about what he smelled. He got – weird, just after smelling it. Like he didn’t like it, or didn’t expect it – whatever it was. I dunno.” Remus kept packing his bag, putting his quills away. “He didn’t say anything to me.”
James shrugged, adjusting the strap on his bag. “Let’s go – I’m starving.”
James and Peter led the way out as Remus trailed behind them, thinking of Sirius.
But Sirius wasn’t in the Great Hall, and his absence was conspicuous – dinner was noticeably more subdued than usual without Sirius to contribute to their banter, and Remus picked at his pudding in silence. What had Sirius smelled that had affected him so much? He had barely had a moment to reflect on his own Amortentia situation and the stresses that accompanied it because he had been so preoccupied with Sirius – but perhaps that was for the best. Remus really didn’t need to think about the leather jacket smell any more than he already did.
“Bit weird Padfoot’s missing dinner,” said Peter, with a mouth full of trifle.
“Maybe he’s finally shagging McKinnon,” said James, who was idly dragging a spoon through the remnants of his pudding. Remus choked on a sip of pumpkin juice. “You alright, Moony?” Remus nodded, and focused very specifically on finishing his pumpkin juice rather than participating in the conversation.
After dinner, James and Peter headed towards the common room. Peter, not noticing that Remus had hung back, kept walking; James stopped and looked at Remus quizzically when he didn’t follow them.
“I’m not feeling well,” he lied, though with a pang of guilt. “Probably something to do with my, er, furry little problem. I’ll go see Madam Pomfrey and see if she’s got anything that can help.”
“Feel better, mate,” said James, and then, more quietly: “The Quidditch pitch.”
“What?” Remus blinked.
“He goes to the Quidditch pitch when he’s upset. See you later,” whispered James. He clapped Remus on the shoulder affectionately and he jogged to catch up with Peter.
The Quidditch pitch. Remus stood outside the Great Hall for a moment, thinking. What if Sirius didn’t want to see him? Whatever was upsetting him was clearly personal, and none of Remus’ business – but being Sirius’ best friend was Remus’ business. And if he needed something, anything, Remus would do it for him. So that settled it – Remus headed out of the castle and down towards the Quidditch pitch, with his heart in his throat.
The evening air was cool as the sun set on Hogwarts. Remus climbed up to the stands where he knew Sirius always sat during matches – he had a hunch he would sit in the same place. When he reached the top of the stairs, he saw James had been right – of course. Sirius was sat in the stands, looking out onto the pitch. Remus swallowed nervously.
“Er, hi,” he said. Sirius jumped.
“Bloody fucking hell, Moony, you nearly gave me a stroke,” said Sirius, returning to how he had been seated before. “How did you –”
“James,” Remus said.
“Fuck’s sake,” Sirius said. “Stupid Prongs.”
“Sorry, I can leave – I just, you – you seemed upset, today, after Potions. So I wanted to talk to you but you weren’t at dinner, and I think James could tell, so he tipped me off,” said Remus, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could think about them.
“S’alright,” said Sirius, still gazing out of the stands.
It was a fairly noncommittal answer, Remus thought, but didn’t seem to imply he should leave. He sat next to Sirius, willing his hands not to shake.
They sat for a moment, with only the sounds of the Hogwarts grounds to fill the silence between them. The setting sun shone on Sirius’ face, looking so much like it had in the classroom with the glow of the fire. Remus was certain Sirius could hear his heartbeat.
“I lied,” said Sirius, breaking the silence at last – though still not looking at Remus.
“What?” Remus said.
“I lied to Peter. In Potions.”
Remus’ stomach did a flip. He had been right – it had been the Amortentia that upset Sirius. But why?
“About Marlene?” Sirius nodded, and a thick silence fell over them again.
Something about knowing Sirius had lied to Peter filled Remus with an odd sort of courage – the feeling that if Sirius had trusted him with that, then he owed Sirius his trust too.
“I did too,” said Remus, and for the first time, Sirius turned to face him.
“You did?” Remus nodded. “Why?”
Remus chewed the inside of his cheek. This was a dangerous game to play, but he had committed to it.
“The same reason you did, I expect. Whatever you smelled, you didn’t want anyone to know – neither did I.”
The air between them was electric. They seemed to be having a conversation entirely without words – like James and Sirius did, but also not at all like that. James and Sirius spoke a language of smirks and sideways glances and mischief, and this was something else. Remus felt Sirius’ eyes searching his face for something, though he couldn’t say what. He stared back, feeling the cool breeze on his skin and watching it blow through strands of Sirius’ hair.
“What was yours, Moony?” Sirius asked, finally.
“You first,” said Remus – it was almost a dare.
Sirius’ face was unreadable. Remus feared he’d made a mistake and was just about to call it off and leave when Sirius spoke.
“You know that smell,” he started very conversationally, surprising Remus. “It’s like, when you’ve kept your jumpers in a drawer for too long, and then when you take them out they smell a certain way.” Remus nodded. “That.”
Remus blinked. “You smelled...jumpers? Old jumpers?” Sirius nodded. “That’s...not exactly romantic.”
“Right.”
In the silence, Remus became very aware of his own threadbare jumper, his favourite, where he’d worried holes into the cuffs with his thumbs. His heart stopped, but only momentarily. Don’t be daft, everyone wears jumpers.
“Then,” said Sirius, “I smelled sweets.”
“Sweets,” Remus repeated, confused.
“Sweets,” Sirius confirmed. “I couldn’t tell what, but then it smelled like really, really good chocolate – the biggest bar they sell at Honeydukes.”
Remus froze. He could feel every cell in his body freeze individually.
“And last, it smelled like the most boring section of the library, where all the books are falling apart and no one’s read them for ages.” Sirius was looking straight into his eyes. Remus felt his heart stop.
It was his turn to speak, he knew. That was how conversations were supposed to work. But not this one, he thought. Nothing could have prepared him for this – to have Sirius Black gaze into his eyes and tell him, in painstaking detail, that his Amortentia smelled unmistakably of Remus.
“So that’s why I lied, and why I left, and why I skived off dinner. Because I realized what it smelled like and I panicked and I didn’t want anyone to know. Because it’s really fucking weird to fancy your best mate, and I didn’t know what to do about it.”
“This is mad,” said Remus. “I’m going mad. Or I’m dreaming, and I’m going to wake up in the dormitory in five minutes and I never went to the Quidditch pitch and this never happened, because this is mad.” He ran a hand through his hair. His heart was pounding wildly, he could barely think, and then he was brought firmly back to reality by the look on Sirius’ face. It could only be described as heart-shattering disappointment.
“Well, if that’s how you feel about it –” Sirius got up and tried to leave, but Remus stood in the way.
“Padfoot, no –”
“Go on, tell James he’s got a shirtlifter for a best mate –”
“No, wait –”
“Peter’s mum’ll have me chucked out of Hogwarts, I expect –”
“You don’t understand –”
“My family already think I’m unnatural so it won’t make a difference –”
“Sirius, you were mine too!” Remus blurted, wrestling him back from the exit. Sirius’ eyes had gone wide.
“You’re serious?”
Remus nodded violently, feeling as though he were about to be sick. This was a dream, he was sure of it, except for the fact that everything he was feeling was too real to be a dream.
“I wasn’t going to tell you, I was so sure it was just me, but it was you, it was all you, it’s always been you, your stupid bloody jacket and your hair and this awful wet dog smell –”
Then Sirius kissed him, hard.
Remus felt his head knock against the wood of the stands, but he barely noticed. His hands twisted into Sirius’ hair, and Sirius gasped into his mouth. The night was cool, but Remus felt fire coursing through his veins. He broke away from Sirius, despite every part of him wanting to be closer to him, taking heaving breaths.
“Please,” Remus said, “please tell me this isn’t a dream. Because I’ll be so bloody disappointed if it is.”
Sirius laughed, and craned his neck to kiss him again.