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It started out small. Little bars of chocolate and tokens of affection left on his pillow, handwritten notes in block letters explaining secretive feelings and intimate desires.
But then it got more elaborate.
Every time a gift was left it seemed to be hand-picked for him. If he ripped the elbow of his favorite jumper, it seemed a new one was left for him on his bed within the day. If he expressed a desire for a specific quill or a flavor of his favorite candy, whatever he asked for always appeared.
He began testing it. Trying to figure out who his secret admirer could possibly be. And he realized quite quickly that it had to be someone who lived in his dorm.
It was pretty obvious after a while. He didn't hang 'round a lot of people, and many times his expression of needs or wants was only in front of his three closest friends. So, he started trying to narrow it down.
"Ugh, I'm almost out of blue ink," he lamented in front of James one day as they studied alone in he library.
"Sucks, mate," James replied vaguely, staring over at Lily, who was chatting with Marlene McKinnon.
His present the next day was a scarf, made of the softest wool.
"The pudding tonight was awful," he complained to Peter as they played chess quietly another night, Peter solidly kicking his arse.
"It was!" Peter exclaimed. "Checkmate, by the way."
And his present, he found, was a new journal, bound in leather.
But the next night, when he said to Sirius, heart beating nervously, "My quill broke yesterday. My favorite one," he was half-hoping not to find the stunning, gold-plated quill he saw on his pillow the next day. Because he knew what that meant.
"Sirius!" he called to his friend in the hall, embarrassment and a bit of anger flooding through him, grabbing the shorter boy's hand and pulling him into an empty classroom. "We need to talk."
"What's up, Moons?" Sirius asked. And Merlin, he was pretty. Remus hated himself.
"You need to stop," he said softly, tears in his eyes. "It's not fair."
"S-stop what?" Sirius stammered, but they both knew what Remus was talking about.
"I don't know if you're teasing me, or you're doing this out of pity, or what," Remus said, trying to keep his voice level. "But it's got to stop. I don't want any of this. I-"
But Sirius interrupted him, looking shocked. "Rem, I'm not making fun of you, and I'm definitely not doing this out of pity. Fuck, I- I'm doing this because-"
"I don't want to hear this, Sirius," Remus cut him off. "I can't hear it." He wanted to cry. To run. It was impossible, to hear that Sirius didn't feel the same way. He knew it, of course, but to hear it aloud would forever change him. The dread was sitting in his stomach like a sludge and he just needed to scream.
"Remus, I like you!" Sirius nearly-yelled, throwing his hands out desperately.
And Remus stilled, hope blooming in his chest, a single tear escaping his eye and slowly moving down his cheek. "What?"
"Yes! Merlin, I wouldn't have done all of this otherwise," Sirius said, face a bit nervous, gaze at his feet as his confession sat in the air.
But, rather than taking too long to search for words that he wasn't sure he could find right now, Remus chose to reach for Sirius instead, drawing their lips together in a sweet kiss.