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Sirius had a terrible habit of muttering under his breath. Always when Remus fumbled something up, and always in French.
It drove him mad.
It’d been happening for the better part of a year, since Remus turned sixteen. Remus was dying to know what Sirius was saying to him. He was never there to witness Sirius do this to any of the other marauders, or the girls. It was frustratingly confusing, and Remus spent many nights staring up at his bed curtains, thinking to the point of headaches. Three possibilities came to mind:
1) Sirius was cursing him out under his breath, and secretly hated Remus’s guts,
2) Sirius did this to everyone else and Remus just never caught it,
OR
3) Sirius was just getting his jollies off of seeing Remus struggle to understand something.
He thought the most likely was two, and then three. But he could never quite rule out one, no matter how much he wanted to.
***
Remus’s last straw came one day in Potions. They were attempting the antidote to common poisons, Slughorn making his rounds around the room to check up on each pair. James and Peter stuck together, and Lily had taken up trying to restore peace with Snivellus again, so Remus was left to partner with Sirius.
It wasn’t that Remus didn’t want to work with Sirius, but he felt that Sirius would rather be with James, joking around and competing for the prettiest bird’s attention. Besides, he usually automatically went to Lily, who, out of the five of them, was the best at Potions.
Professor Slughorn slid up to their table and Remus dropped in the Bezoar, turning the potion an ugly brown colour. “Aht,” the professor tutted. “A smidge too much Bezoar, Mr. Lupin. And it would be best to dice it finely, not just slice it.” The old man gave an awkward smile, turning to Lily and Snape for inspection. “Fantastic!” He exclaimed, walking away.
“T’as de la chance que tu es joli,” Sirius scoffed, flipping the page of his textbook lazily. Remus furrowed his brow, trying to will Sirius to look up at him, but his eyes stayed downcast. He eventually looked away, writing in his potions notebook: Too much Bezoar… ‘Ta de luh shans q’ too eh Julie(????)’ He closed the book and saved it for later, looking up at the front of the room to pay attention to Slughorn’s thinly veiled criticisms of the class.
***
He skipped lunch, going down to the Library to find some French textbooks, maybe a French-to-English dictionary if he was lucky. He beelined for the foreign languages section, scanning the shelves for ’F’ and pulled out three books: A Witch’s Guide to French Love Spells and Curses, French to English Phrases and Idioms, and The Traveler’s Guide to France and the Romance Language.
He opened his Potions notebook on a table and flipped through French to English Phrases and Idioms. It was a particularly daunting task, given that French was ridiculously non-phonetic, and Remus’s spelling was completely butchered, but he powered on. After twenty minutes of searching, he finally found “T’as,” which was a major win in his opinion.
It was lucky for him that Sirius Black was always heard before he was seen, because it gave Remus ample time to shove the French books underneath the table and grab a Roman history textbook off the shelf next to him. He flipped to a random page, apparently now studying Nero.
Sirius spotted him and sat down at the table, flashing a grin. “Skipping lunch, are we?” Remus only shrugged, trying to focus on the words of the page. Sirius used the tip of his wand to view the cover of the book, scrunching up his nose. “Rome? Really, Moony?”
“What’s wrong with Rome?” Remus quipped, feeling suddenly defensive. Embarrassment coursed through him, like he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t have.
“Nothing,” Sirius surrendered. “Just that there’s France right there.” He pointed to the section Remus had just been rummaging through. Remus did not look up.
“Elitist.” He poked his tongue out.
“Eh,” Sirius shrugged. “Je suis que tu dis.”
Remus sighed, exasperated. “Why do you keep doing that?” He asked, once and for all.
Sirius’s shoulders raised. “Doing what?”
“You know…” Remus waved a hand. “Speaking in French. To me.”
Remus watched Sirius’s eyes relax, a loose grin spread on his face. He leaned against his arms, head tilting toward Remus. “Parce je sais que tu ne peux pas comprendre moi.”
In a quick moment, Remus reached to the seat next to him, revealing the French-to-English dictionary hidden out of view. Sirius’s eyebrows shot up, panic filling his features. “Yeah, I got you now, you bastard,” Remus goaded, flipping through to the P section.
“Remus…” Sirius warned, trying to grasp the book across the table. Remus’s arms were longer, however, and he simply kept it out of Sirius’s reach. He found the first word, quicker than last time, perhaps for its comprehensibility. ”Parce: Because,” it read. Remus flashed a smug grin at Sirius, who was now getting up to walk around the table. Remus stood too, holding the book over Sirius’s head, flipping for “s”.
“Moony, I’m serious.” Sirius grunted, failing to get a hold of it once again.
“This is what you get for taunting your monolingual friends, you prick,” Remus pulled Sirius’s arm away with his free hand. When Sirius just put his other arm up, Remus pushed Sirius away by the chest, holding him there while he tried to search for ‘juh say”.
“Ugh,” Remus groaned. “French is so stupid. None of these look like real words.”
Sirius smiled hopefully at that, taking advantage of Remus’s frustration by slipping away from the latter’s grasp and plucking the book out of his hand. He snapped it shut and tucked it under his arm for safekeeping. “I win,” he teased. “I’m checking this out, and hiding it where you can never get it.”
“You love to torture me,” Remus moaned, grabbing the two other books and his notebook off the seat and shoving them back on the shelf where he found them.
“Some things are better unknown,” Sirius smiled, walking Remus out of the library.
As soon as they’d turned the corner, Remus faced Sirius. He trained his eyes on Sirius’s, brows set. “I will figure you out, Padfoot.” Sirius’s confidence seemed to waver for a split second, his pupils dilating in a trance.
But as quickly as it’d come, it went. Remus could practically hear Sirius’s blokey demeanour click back into place. “I can’t wait.” He pat Remus on the arm and walked ahead, letting Remus exercise his long legs in catching up with him.
***
A week had gone by, and Remus had made no sort of progress. He’d attempted teaching himself French, but with his NEWTs schedule and the school’s limited language section, he had no choice but to give it up. Sirius would drop French more frequently, now that Remus had brought it to his attention. It was exceptionally frustrating, like Sirius Black always was.
Remus noticed, however, that Sirius now always paused hesitantly after these phrases, as though expecting Remus to suddenly understand him, or quip back in his own, Welsh-influenced French. And as horrible as it sounded, it was nice to see a touch of uncertainty in Sirius.
It was December now, which essentially meant everyone’s minds were all set to “Holiday,” and a sluggish, fatigued energy attached itself to the castle. Remus was getting desperate, agonising over the idea of spending the entire Holiday trapped at the Potters’ with Sirius “t’as un beau cul" Black. It killed Remus, not knowing.
So, as the saying goes– you must understand– desperate times…
Remus caught him coming out of the dungeons, his mouth curling immediately when Remus caught his eye. He appreciated that Regulus kept up with the bit. That after five years of smiles, idle chatter, and prefect duties, Regulus still rolled his eyes and scoffed, pretending that he didn’t start to enjoy Remus’s company and friendship. “What, Lupin,” he sighed.
Remus smiled, walking at Regulus’s side aimlessly. “I need a favour.” Regulus looked at him from the side, an eyebrow quirked in curiosity. It startled Remus how similar the brothers could be, sometimes. “Could you teach me French?”
Regulus cracked a smile, probably entertaining himself with the idea of Remus’s pronunciation. “Why would I do that?”
“Because we’re friends and I’ve melted through your hard exterior a little?”
He got an eye roll, for that one. Remus could hear the cogs turning in Regulus’s head. “Fine.” He pointed severely. “But it’s not because of the thing you said.”
Remus smiled, bumping the younger boy’s shoulder with his own. “Sure, Reg.”
***
It was now the day before holiday, and Remus had been studying with Regulus for nearly two weeks. It was slow work, but Remus was specific about the phrases he wanted to learn, and though he never asked for a direct translation of Sirius’s complisults out of fear they might be something too vile to stomach or deliberately and meaninglessly flustering, he could get the general idea now, and had an easier time looking things up in the dictionary.
Still, the fear of being wrong haunted him, and he was still resolved to never confront Sirius, no matter how nearly sure he was.
Remus pushed down his paranoia and enjoyed this moment, however, lounging about with Sirius and sharing a fag while James fussed in the corner, complaining about the smell and packing. Sirius propped himself up on his elbows and Remus plucked the cigarette out of his hand. “If you’ve got such a problem with the smell, mum, why don’t you just leave?”
James threw up his arms, gesturing to the mess on the bed. “All of my stuff is here, numpty.”
Sirius balled up a sock and threw it at him anyway, and Remus smiled lazily at the ceiling while they tousled, smoking thoughtfully. He focused on the air coming through the window and the grunting of his idiot dormmates, letting The Who– one of Remus’s records– fade into the background. He was really relishing his earlier decision to visit the greenhouses, sitting up to headrush. He rested the fag on the ashtray, stretching his arms above his head. “Ugh, idiots,” Remus scoffed, watching the boys wrestle on the ground.
Sirius sprung up immediately, challenging Remus. “Who’re you calling an idiot, mon amê?” James stood up after him, pushing him on the back of his head as a final word. He went back to his packing for nearly thirty seconds before declaring he needed a walk and was going to visit Lily. They were left alone, and Remus was pretty sure that “amê” meant “soul.”
He narrowed his eyes in question, but Sirius didn’t make any sign of understanding or letting up, "Tu as perdu ta langue?" He continued, boldly, "Ou est-ce que tu rêves embrasser-moi?" Oh, he knew that one. He had looked it up, over and over and over, making sure there was no other word he could mistake for it. “Veux-tu… m'embrasser?” He asked, in halting French. It made it easier to stumble under the excuse of ignorance, and pretend that Sirius’s level of French was the same as his– that he might not understand.
But of course, he did. He blinked slowly at first, stunned. “Est-ce que tu viens de parler français?”
“Woah,” Remus reeled back. “I just started doing all this, I can’t understand you at that speed.”
Sirius grabbed either side of Remus’s face, squishing his cheeks together. “Did you just speak French?!” He asked, gasping.
“Yus,” Remus replied through his cheeks. He batted Sirius’s hands away, a little embarrassed at being ignored. Sirius lowered his hands only to Remus’s neck, though, his thumbs holding Remus’s head up.
Sirius was still smiling and giggling like a kid. “J'en reviens pas que tu aies parlé français,” he laughed. Remus couldn’t understand any of it. He was mesmerised by the glisten in Sirius’s eyes. He wanted to look behind him and check that there wasn’t anyone there– that this gaze really was for Remus, and Remus alone.
Remus realised with a start that the shine had been snuffed– it was gone, but the pressure of Sirius’s lips against his own silenced all thoughts, with the memory that oh, he’d closed his eyes. Oh… so he could kiss me.
Sirius pulled back to look at Remus, checking for his reaction. He wasn’t used to being watched so carefully. It was a little scary. “Can we–”
“Can you say it in French?” Sirius pleaded, putting his hand on top of Remus’s.
Remus swallowed. “Pouvons-nous…” Remus didn’t know the word. “do... encore?”
Sirius barked with laughter, head tilting down as he surrendered to his fits. Remus hit him in the arm and he snapped his head up, gasping in shock and out of breath. “Arsehole,” Remus pouted. “I’ve only started learning two weeks ago, give me a break.”
Sirius took Remus by the cheeks again, but instead of squeezing, he kissed Remus on the mouth, trailing his hands down Remus’s chest while his mouth wandered to his neck. “I don’t mean to laugh,” Sirius said in between kisses. “You’re just very cute.”
Remus’s jaw dropped open when Sirius began to suck at the base of his neck, his mind floating. “I want you,” Sirius kissed his way back up to Remus’s lips. “To speak to me in French.” Remus opened his mouth to protest, but Sirius covered it with his hand. “As best you can. I won’t judge.”
He lowered his hand, now straddling Remus. The sight alone made Remus tremble with want. “Sirius,” he started. This was horribly embarrassing, but like hell he wasn’t going to do it. “Je veux… t’embrasser.”
Sirius bent down to give him a peck on the lips. He held himself up with his arms on either side of Remus’s head, his hair coming down like a curtain, shielding them two from the rest of the world. “Plus,” Remus croaked, and Sirius lowered himself for a deeper kiss, sweeping his hair across his neck to one side. He opened his mouth first, and Remus took the opportunity to taste all of him, touching the tips of their tongues. Remus reached his hand up to the side of Sirius’s face, pulling him closer. He tilted Sirius’s head up with his thumb, biting into his neck greedily, then kissing apologetically. Hands traced the outline of Remus’s torso, thumbs grazing over scars unknowingly and uncaring. Remus tugged at the hem of Sirius’s shirt, loosening the tie and unbuttoning it to clear a path to the smooth skin underneath. He branded a kiss onto Sirius’s chest, hugging him tightly.
Sirius brought them eye to eye, cupping Remus’s cheek tenderly.
All Remus could do was kiss Sirius slowly, savour the moment, and ask silently– will you regret me tomorrow, on the train, at the Potters’, in front of our friends?
And Sirius dug his nails into Remus’s hip excitedly, kissed him back, and smiled softly. “I have wanted you for a very long time, Moony,” he muttered, as though he didn’t want Remus to hear him. But it was just the two of them.
Remus wished they might melt into each other right there and become nothing but each other– to know no bounds or lines between them. This feeling must be stronger than love, he thought.
It had to be enough, for now, for them to kiss each other over and over again and smile until they got hungry, or until a roommate barged in unexpectedly.