Work Text:
Somebody once told Sirius Black that a university degree was far easier than A-Levels. He can’t remember who it was—maybe a teacher, maybe an old schoolmate. He’d fallen for it, of course, like most people do. Probably said something along the lines of, “Thank God for that,” or something cockier, like, “Bet I’ll end up with a first, then.”
It goes without saying that whoever it had been to tell him had been a big fat fucking liar. They’d clearly never experienced the third year January exam period with the looming deadline of their dissertation haunting their every move. At this point, Sirius would happily sit his A-Levels ten times over if it meant escaping the hell of his degree.
He’s thought about dropping out more times than he can count. Every student considers it at least once a week, especially when the work they signed up for stops being hypothetical and starts being very, very real. But with the finish line in sight, he soldiers on.
However, that doesn’t stop him from feeling incredibly sorry for himself at every given opportunity.
When he walks into the library on a Saturday afternoon in early January, he curses himself for ever believing such stupid nonsense.
He’s sure that his emotions show on his face. Tired, stressed, angry, hungry. He’s at the point where he’d quite like to have some caffeine injected into his veins just to wake himself up.
Not that he has anyone else to blame (not this time anyway). He’d stayed up until 5am watching an old series of Love Island with James over FaceTime. Sensibly, James had fallen asleep by 1am, but Sirius had kept watching, undeterred by the sound of his best friend’s snores.
The library is silent. That awkward, oppressive kind of quiet where coughing or opening a fizzy drink feels like a crime. He considers just turning around completely, but he knows if he went back to his flat he’d immediately get distracted. Another day of procrastination would be guaranteed.
So, with a sigh, he picks one of the many empty tables and readies himself for war.
The only thing keeping him going is the white monster and the kinder bueno in his bag which he’d treated himself to from the student shop before he walked in.
It’s very rare to have a whole desk to yourself in the library, so there's an odd part of him that feels a little smug that he’d managed to get one—as if it had been much of a challenge at all.
The floor that he is on consists of many bookshelves and multiple round tables. The bookshelves divide the tables up, creating a sense of privacy that the other floors with long rows of desks don’t allow.
Although there are bookshelves, there’s a gap just wide enough to give Sirius a clear view of the table opposite him and the stranger sitting there. He considers moving, wanting to avoid any awkwardness. But the table he’s currently at is closest to the history section and he’s got important readings that he needs to do.
He looks briefly at the boy sitting there. He doesn’t know him, but something about the guy draws his attention. Maybe it’s the way his curls catch the soft light filtering in through the high windows, a rich, fawny, brown. Or maybe it’s the honey-brown hue of his eyes, visible even at a distance as they flicker between a battered notebook and the open laptop in front of him.
He looks exhausted—though Sirius supposes they all do. His shoulders are hunched, his jaw tight with concentration, and every so often, he pauses to scribble something in his notebook, his hand moving with quick precision.
Sirius looks away, not wanting to be caught staring, but also because he cannot let himself get distracted. He has work to do and no very, very , good looking man will stop him from getting it done.
He opens his laptop and pulls up the google doc with his list of things to do. He finds that having a list helps settle the relentless stress. It’s odd because you wouldn’t describe Sirius as a particularly organised person, if anything, he’s quite messy and rather chaotic. But when it comes to University work, the lists help him feel in control.
He decides to work from the top down, despite how much he’d like to get the easier and more enjoyable jobs done first. So he first needs to go through the readings and notes for a seminar he had missed before the end of term.
He tells himself that he can open his monster once he has finished this task. That seems to spur him on, motivating him enough to read the twenty pages of perhaps the most dull article he has ever had the pleasure of reading. He makes a few notes, but he decides that most of the information is useless to him regardless—a waste of time.
He happily deletes the task from his list, a warm feeling of pride comes from this. To reward himself, like he had promised, he fishes the monster out from his bag.
He’d been so excited that he’d forgotten to open it slowly.
Crack.
Instinctively, his eyes shoot up. A hot flush immediately overtakes his cheeks.
The stranger’s head snaps up also. His honey-brown eyes locking onto Sirius’s for a brief, heart-stopping moment. Sirius freezes, his mind screaming at him to look away, but he doesn’t.
The guy blinks, his expression unreadable, before his lips twitch in what might be amusement—or exasperation. He shakes his head lightly, curls bouncing, before turning back to his work.
Sirius looks down as well, quickly to avoid any further embarrassment. He tells himself to focus, to stop being weird, but his gaze keeps drifting back to the stranger to see if he’s still looking.
He never is.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆
The next day, Sirius returns to the library, this time armed with a blackcurrant Oasis and a packet of salt and vinegar McCoys. He isn’t making the same mistake with fizzy drinks again.
The previous evening had been uneventful in the best way. He’d walked back home and put a healthy portion of chicken nuggets straight into the airfryer. He usually eats healthier, but that's because James usually cooks for both of them. But right now, James isn’t around so Sirius can clog his arteries with as much shitty food as he wants.
He sat and ate with Gid and Fab. The two twins are also slogging through the exam period, their shared stress making them easy company. The three of them sit and complain for a good hour or so until the need for his bed gets too strong.
The rest of their flatmates, irritatingly, are exam free and happily flaunting their freedom in their shared group chat. Benji is continuously sending photos of his home cooked meals and Cardaoc has been down the pub almost all weekend.
James is one of the lucky ones. He gets to stay at their family home in Devon with their parents and Regulus— Sirius’ brother and James’ boyfriend. It had been painful for Sirius to leave two weeks earlier than his best friend, especially after the weeks of Christmas festivities.
Sirius had spent another evening on FaceTime with James, enduring a full play-by-play of the couple’s date night. He’d had to stop James at one point, when his friend had crossed the boundaries of what Sirius would like to hear about his little brother. It’s not that he doesn’t support the two of them, but his tolerances can only go so far.
However, it had cheered him up incredibly when James had taken his laptop downstairs so that Sirius could chat with Effie, Monty and Regulus as well. He missed them all and he was terribly jealous of James getting to spend that little bit longer with them.
He’d gone to bed at a much more appropriate time, following in James’ footsteps and leaving the call at midnight to sleep.
In the morning, he’d even woken up at the sound of his first alarm—rather than snoozing it at least five times, like he usually does. It took everything in him not to go back to sleep.
That means that he managed to get a much earlier start in the library today. He already feels far more productive than he has done in weeks.
He heads down the stairs again and sits at the same table, beelining for it when he notices that it’s free. It’s quiet, just like yesterday. It’s still the weekend after all. Other people have much better things to do than sit in the library for hours.
It isn’t until he looks up that he notices that the stranger is there again, in the exact same seat. He’s wearing a different knitted jumper this time, a burgundy and navy blue checkered knit which drowns the boy but looks excessively comfy. He’s got the same headphones as yesterday and he’s wearing that same look of concentration.
The stranger looks up at Sirius and their eyes meet. This time, the stranger just smiles, a brief ‘hello’ sort of smile.
Sirius offers a warm smile back. It’s a genuine smile, with a hint of surprise at the strangers acknowledgement.
Even once the stranger has looked away, Sirius continues to smile to himself, cheeks flushed slightly pink.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆
Three days in a row is a personal record in terms of Sirius’ library attendance. In fact, he probably hasn’t even been three times in a month before.
It was one of his new year's resolutions to start going to the library more often, to stay on top of his workload and increase productivity. He told himself that he will start staying during the breaks between lectures, rather than popping back to his flat for an inevitable nap.
He didn’t get any snacks today. He and the twins are going to their local pub for a few drinks and a roast tonight to treat themselves. He’s only at the library for a little while, just to print out some sheets that he needs for his revision.
He heads downstairs, like usual and he sees that his table is empty again. He’s claimed this table now and he would be quite unhappy if he came to find somebody else sat in it. So he is relieved to see it empty.
He is also relieved to see that the stranger is here again. At the same table, in the same seat, with another pile of books and another knitted jumper.
He’s got his headphones on again and Sirius wonders what he’s listening to. He spends a little longer than he should thinking about this, and decides that he is most definitely a Hozier man.
As if sensing the attention, the man looks up and catches Sirius’s eye. Like yesterday, he smiles at Sirius on greeting. Sirius returns it without hesitation and then gets to work at unpacking his laptop and organising what he needs to print out.
Once he’s sent everything to the printer—silently praying he still has enough credits for it all—he stands to retrieve his pages. He’s more of a visual learner, he likes doing mind maps and filling out worksheets that he finds online.
The printers are on the other side of the room. As he’s getting up, he notices that the guy isn’t at his table, but his things have all been left behind which means he’s coming back, but where has he–
Oh of course.
The other man, much taller—wow he really is quite tall, is also at the printers. His headphones are on and his back is turned, utterly oblivious to Sirius approaching.
Fuck , he starts to panic. He’s going to look like he’s followed him. He needs to be nonchalant. But not too nonchalant, he needs to be friendly. God, does that mean he needs to actually say something? Fuck , what should he say? Fuck fuck fuck fuck .
“I’m starting to think you might live here.” Is what Sirius ends up saying.
He’s well aware that he sounds like a knob. He cringes inside as the words leave his mouth, wondering why the hell he didn’t just settle for a ‘hello’ or a ‘how are you?’
The other boy's head turns towards him, one eyebrow quirking upward in what Sirius desperately hopes is amusement and not offense. He pulls his headphones down to rest around his neck, and Sirius can faintly hear the tail end of some low, folksy tune—probably Hozier, as he suspected.
“I kind of do at this point.” He responds.
His voice makes Sirius’ brain short circuit, screaming ‘ HE’S WELSH, OH MY FUCKING GOD THE SEXY MAN IS WELSH! ’
“Exams?” Sirius asks, although the answer is quite obvious.
“No. I just enjoy sitting in the library all day, every day.” The Welsh man responds, his tone laced with sarcasm and wit.
Sirius laughs awkwardly. “Okay, stupid question.”
The stranger grins, effortlessly charming, as he gathers his freshly printed papers. “See you later–”
“Sirius” He supplies eagerly.
The brunette nods in recognition, pushing his headphones to cover his ears again as he walks away.
Sirius was so entranced that he hadn’t noticed he’d forgotten to ask for the stranger's own name.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆
He allows himself a lie in before his fourth library day. He wakes up in the late morning and he sits in bed for far longer. It’s about 2pm when he decides he should get up, have some toast, and head to the library before it gets dark.
He calls Regulus on his walk into the University. It isn’t far, but he wanted to catch up with his brother beyond a video call with James. Sirius spends most of the call complaining about how much he has to do, and Regulus tells him to just get over it–he’s never been the best at comforting people.
He hangs up the call as he walks through the main doors, promising to call later on so that they can organise a present for Andies upcoming Birthday.
He taps his student card and enters, scrolling through Spotify to pick a playlist. Inspired by the stranger's music choice, he ends up putting on a playlist called ‘remind me why I have ears’ which is predominantly Hozier.
He finds himself wondering what the stranger's name is. Tom maybe? He could be a Ben, or maybe a Lucas. He thinks of Welsh names, maybe Gareth or Rhys. Realistically, it could be any name under the sun and Sirius might never find out.
The man smiles at him again when he sees Sirius sit down at his usual table.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆
The stranger looks really good on the 5th day in the library. Not that he hasn’t looked good every day. But today, his jumper hangs discarded over the back of his chair and he’s wearing a band tee–specifically, Led Zeppelin band tee.
Not only can Sirius now see what the man had been hiding under all of those obnoxiously oversized jumpers, but he can also tell that he has elite music taste.
The t-shirt clings just enough to reveal what the jumpers had concealed: broad shoulders, lean arms, and a sense of casual confidence that makes Sirius’s stomach do a ridiculous little flip.
Sirius tries not to stare. He really does. But his eyes seem to have a mind of their own, drawn to the way the man shifts in his seat, the way his hair falls just slightly into his face as he reads.
Of course, the stranger looks up at Sirius, catching him staring. Sirius swears very loudly to himself in his head.
There's a glint of acknowledgement in the man's eyes, and a different kind of smile spreads across his lips. It’s less friendly, and perhaps more smug–teasing almost.
Sirius feels his cheeks heat and he doesn’t dare look up again. Despite having his eyes glued firmly to his laptop for the duration of his library visit, he feels as if he got no work done.
Maybe the man's name is Satan and he’s here to tempt Sirius.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆
Sirius reckons that he might be a familiar face to the librarians at this point. He flashes one of the older ladies a smile as he walks in and he’s sure that she recognised him as one of the regulars.
He woke up in a particularly good mood this morning. He woke up before his alarm, feeling more rested than he has in a while. He had a good breakfast and he’d treated himself to a meal deal from Tesco on the way, which he cannot wait to tuck into the second he sits down.
He heads down the stairs like usual, feeling like clockwork now. Only to halt to a stop when he realises that something is wrong.
Somebody is sitting at his table.
He looks around helplessly, noticing that each of the tables are in use. He wouldn’t want to sit at any of the other tables anyway. He just wants his table.
He frowns slightly, lifting his bag higher onto his shoulders as he considers just turning around and going home. His good mood be damned.
But as he’s about to turn and retreat back up the stairs, he notices that the stranger is here again.
The Welsh man is looking at him, it seems as if he’s been watching him the whole time. Sirius feels a little embarrassed, wondering if it's clear how put out he is over a table at the University library. He must look ridiculous.
The fawny haired stranger smiles again, like usual, but this time, he nods his head in a ‘you can sit here’ gesture. To confirm this, he settles his headphones around his neck.
Sirius is sure that his heart stops.
He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to move. He walks over slowly, trying to calm the internal gay panic as he pulls out the seat opposite the very attractive man.
“Thanks,” Sirius manages, his voice sounding far steadier than he feels.
“Did she not know that that’s your table?” The man whispers, a teasing smile playing at his lips.
Sirius blinks, momentarily thrown off by the comment. Then the teasing registers, and he lets out a breathy laugh.
“I know, right?” he says, leaning into the joke. “The cheek of it.”
The man gets back to his work, but not without making one final comment. “This table is better anyway.”
They work in silence for a while. Although Sirius first thought that working directly opposite the stranger might be difficult, he finds that he’s actually more concentrated than he has been all week.
Maybe it’s the stranger's own determination and productivity that's spurring him on. Each and every time Sirius looks up, he’s hard at work, either intently reading something in his pile of books or typing something down quickly on his laptop.
He starts doing the worksheets that he’d printed out the other day., eyes flickering between his lecture notes, the books in front of him and the sheet of paper. He manages three of them before he decides that he’s too hungry to not eat his meal deal now.
It isn’t until he’s getting it out from his bag that he wonders if the stranger is going to judge him for his meal deal choice. Is it too plain? Too obnoxious? He thinks his choice of a BBQ chicken wrap, salt and vinegar McCoys and a Pepsi Max cherry is quite respectable.
He hesitates for a second, and then he thinks, well if this man is going to judge my meal deal choices then maybe he isn’t the man for me .
The stranger looks up at him, noticing Sirius’ movements. His expression is unreadable, no judgement but also no particular reaction.
Then, unexpectedly, he closes his laptop. Sirius wonders if he’s leaving. Has his awful meal deal choice scared the man away?
But then the man rifles in his own bag on the seat next to him, pulling out his own meal deal.
A chicken and bacon wrap. A mars bar. A Pepsi Max cherry.
Are his standards so low that he thinks this is strangely romantic? Can eating together in the library be considered as their first date? It’s already better than any date he’s been on before.
He internally tells himself to shut up and stop getting carried away. He doesn't even know the man's name, let alone his sexual preferences. James always tells him off for being far too delusional for his own good (to which he responds, “Pot. Kettle.”)
“You’ve got good taste.” The stranger says, signally towards their matched drink choice.
Sirius grins, “so do you.”
The stranger keeps reading whilst he eats–no rest for the wicked, Sirius supposes. He decides to follow in suit, using the time to get ahead on some of his readings for the next term. Although, there is a slight disappointment at their lack of communication, they’ve hardly spoken two words to each other and that bothers Sirius. There's something about this man that is so intriguing, Sirius wants to know everything about him.
Starting with his name.
He builds up the confidence to say, “I never got your name.”
The stranger looks up from his book, his expression shifting from focused to pleasantly surprised. He closes the book slightly, keeping his place with a finger, and tilts his head as though considering the question.
“Remus.”
“Remus,” Sirius repeats, testing it out, and then grins. “It suits you.”
Remus raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Does it?”
“Yeah,” Sirius says with an air of mock seriousness. “You don’t look like a Gareth or a Tom, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
Remus snorts at that, shaking his head. Sirius looks at the book in his hand, ‘Literary theory.’
“You study Literature?” Sirius asks.
Remus nods, “and you study History.” It isn’t much of a question, more of a statement. Sirius is flattered that Remus had been paying him enough attention to notice.
“No. I just enjoy reading History books in my spare time.” Sirius retorts, much like Remus’ own sarcastic comment the other day.
Remus rolls his eyes, a smile spreading across his lips. “Knob.”
They fall back into quiet after that, working in a similar sort of tandem to before. Sirius keeps replaying the conversation in his head, refraining from smiling to himself like an idiot. All he wants to do is giggle like a school girl and kick his feet.
He isn’t like this usually. He’s quite relaxed when it comes to the men that he’s interested in. He doesn’t usually partake in the chase, preferring to be the one being chased. Usually all he needs to do is use his seductive eyes and flick and sway his hair and he’s got an in.
This feels different though. It isn’t some club hookup or a guy he’s been messaging on tinder. It isn’t meaningless and quick. Or impersonal and casual.
This is slow, deliberate, and strangely thrilling in a way Sirius isn’t used to. Sirius isn’t rushing into things, he isn’t immediately going for what he wants. He’s slowly reading the person that Remus is, letting things build up naturally until it becomes clear to him what is going on between them. He’s always been the type to dive headfirst into things, to throw himself at whatever catches his attention and figure the rest out later.
Sirius isn’t even sure that Remus feels any way about him. The man isn’t giving away anything at all, which is perhaps what excites him. This is unfamiliar territory for Sirius, but he can’t deny how much he’s enjoying it.
Remus, for his part, doesn’t give much away. He’s focused, thoughtful, and maddeningly hard to read. Sirius isn’t used to this kind of restraint—it makes him want to work for it, to earn those rare smirks and knowing glances.
God he hopes that this man is queer. More than he’s wanted any man to be queer before—and that includes Chris Evans.
He glances up occasionally, watching the way Remus reads with such focus, the slight furrow of his brow as he makes notes. His handwriting is small and neat, the kind that probably looks just as good on the last page of a notebook as on the first.
Remus packs his things up to leave at about 4pm. Sirius is disappointed, he wishes that he’d stay a little longer, so that they can talk a little more. He watches him put his notebook and his laptop into his bag and deposit the books he’d been using back on the shelves.
Before the man leaves, he looks down at Sirius from his standing position and says, as more of a question “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Sirius blinks up at him. “Er, yeah. I’ll be here.”
He tries to play it cool, though his lips twitch into an uncontrollable grin.
They’re making progress.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆
Sirius tells James about Remus when he calls on his walk to the library. Today marks one week of constant library visits, something that James doesn’t believe–his best friend insists that Sirius is lying to them all. It wasn’t until Sirius had mentioned the attractive Welsh man that James nodded his head in understanding.
“Do you want me to try and find him on facebook?” James asks.
Sirius laughs. “I don’t even know his last name, I doubt you’d have any luck.”
“You doubt me?” James asks with a mock offence. “Remus is a rare name, I bet I’d find him in two seconds.”
Sirius rolls his eyes, even though James can’t see it. “I don’t want to seem like a stalker.”
James laughs now. “When have you ever worried about this sort of stuff? He must be Paul Mescall levels of attractive.”
Sirius groans. “He’s better.”
This is a bold statement for Sirius, who's watched Normal People at least five times. The announcement of Paul in the Gladiator was the equivalent to Sirens singing to him.
James gasps. He can hear Regulus in the background, he scoffs in disbelief. “You’re lying just to be dramatic,” his brother tells him.
“I’m really not.” Sirius insists.
“I’m going to find him on facebook.” James tells him. He can hear the sound of rustling as the other man fishes for his laptop.
“I’ll look on instagram.” Regulus adds.
“No, no, no. You can’t!” Sirius tries to stop them.
“We just won’t tell you what we find then.” Regulus shoots back.
Sirius groans, picking up his pace on the walk to the library, as though that will somehow let him escape his brother and best friend. “You’re both impossible,” he mutters, though there’s no real venom in his tone.
James laughs on the other end of the line. “We’re just trying to help. You’re the one pining like a Victorian maiden over some mysterious Welshman.”
“I’m not pining,” Sirius insists, even though he knows it’s a blatant lie. “I’m...curious.”
Regulus snorts in the background. “You’ve been to the library seven days in a row, what else would you call it?”
“Determination? Academia? Scholarly?”
Both of the men on the other end of the line burst into a fit of laughter. Sirius hangs up.
His first exam is quickly approaching and Sirius feels the pressure today. He’s got a list of readings that he’s wanting to get done. It doesn’t help that he still needs to work on his upcoming dissertation. Emails from his supervisor are a constant reminder of that.
He refrains from sighing as he taps his university ID at the doors to the library. It feels as if he has so much to do in such little time. It confuses him, the first term was laid back, with hardly any deadlines. But now that they’ve entered the second term, he suddenly has four exams, a dissertation and a project all due within a few months of each other.
The pressure to do well is an unwelcome weight, one no doubt influenced by his parents. Although he hasn’t spoken to them in years, their voices echo in his mind. The urges to succeed, to prove himself, to not embarrass them, not to fail. Somewhere along the way, their expectations became his own.
He knows that the Potters would be proud of him regardless, just for attempting and giving it his all. Regardless, he can’t help but be hard on himself, pushing himself further than he can go.
If it were up to his own parents, he’d be at Oxford, studying Economics or Business Management, preparing to take over the family company once his Father decides he’s ready. He’d be expected to receive firsts on everything, anything below that would be simply unacceptable. He’d likely be doing a placement alongside all of this, training himself up to be enough for his parents validation.
He wants to stop thinking about it. The topic of his parents tends to upset him, working him into a state. He rubs at his temple, as if washing the memories away.
Not now, now you need to focus, he tells himself as he descends the stairs.
All thoughts, however, are forgotten when he looks over to his usual table to see it occupied. But, unlike yesterday, the person occupying it is Remus.
He looks over to Remus’ usual table, expecting to see that someone has taken it. However, it sits empty, completely unoccupied and available.
He smiles smugly at that.
“Hello.” Sirius says as he pulls back his usual seat. “Something wrong with your table?”
Remus looks up. He shrugs. “I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. I’m starting to understand why you like this table better.”
“Oh?” Sirius says, eyebrows raised. “Am I being conquered?”
“You’re not willing to share?” Remus responds.
If he thought that yesterday was progress, then this is attainment.
Remus is giving him something back.
Sirius uses the hairband on his wrist to put his hair up as he answers “only if you don’t distract me.”
He does this on purpose, with the whole intention of hypocritically distracting Remus. It seems to work, the man stares for a moment, taking a beat longer than usual to respond. He notices his eyes flicker down to his neck, before coming back up to his eyes.
“Likewise.”
The two of them settle into a comfortable rhythm. Sirius should be focusing on the pages of dense text in front of him but it’s impossible not to steal glances at Remus.
At one point, Sirius glances up and catches Remus watching him. There’s a pause, a fleeting moment of awkwardness, before Remus casually looks away, as if nothing happened. Sirius hides his smile behind a hand, pretending to rub his chin as he looks back down at his book.
Later, Sirius finds himself staring again, this time at Remus’ lips. It’s entirely unintentional—or so he tells himself—but it happens. They’re talking about something inconsequential, and Sirius’ eyes betray him, darting downward for just a second too long.
Remus notices. Of course he notices. His smirk grows wider, and he tilts his head slightly, as if to test Sirius further. “You were saying?” he asks, feigning innocence.
Sirius clears his throat, feeling his cheeks heat up. He wants nothing more than to lean over the table and kiss that smug smile off of the other man's face. To know what it feels like to have his hands on him, on his face, his hips, anywhere and everywhere.
“I was saying… that Folklore is definitely better than Evermore. It isn’t a competition.”
Remus shakes his head, “that's like comparing Da Vinci and Picasso. They’re both brilliant in their own right.”
“But if you had to pick?” Sirius asks.
“Evermore.”
Sirius mock gasps, “traitor!”
Remus smirks, “speaking of… have you been watching it?”
They continue to talk for a while, work completely discarded. Sirius’ day of productivity is completely lost in his conversations with Remus, whose last name he still doesn’t know. They talk about everything but nothing at all, their favourite TV shows, music that they like, what they ate for dinner the night before.
When Remus declares that he needs to leave, Sirius can’t help but frown, his disappointment obvious.
“I’ll be here tomorrow.” Remus offers.
“Same time?”
Remus nods as he gathers his things, slinging his bag over one shoulder. “If you’re lucky.”
The second Sirius has left the library, he calls James.
“How was the library visit?” His friends asks as he picks up the phone.
“Tell me what you found out about him.”
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆
Remus Lupin is in his third year also. They have multiple mutual friends and he’s from a small town outside of Cardiff. James sends him the links to all of the Remus’ he and Regulus had found, and Sirius filters through them until he finds the right one.
James admits that he and Regulus had been hoping it would be that one, understanding immediately why Sirius is so hauled up over this stranger. He really is just that hot.
Sirius goes to bed that night in a good mood.
He wakes up the next morning in an awful one.
From the second he wakes up, he feels anxious. Stressed isn’t quite the word for it, nor is overwhelmed. He feels as if he can’t properly comprehend all of the thoughts in his brain that hit him the moment that his eyes open.
It’s like the truck load of worries that he’s been carrying over the past few weeks has toppled over, flooding him with anxieties all at once.
He lies in bed for a while, non-moving, staring blankly at his ceiling. His thoughts spiral, he panics, he goes through the ten stages of grief–convincing himself that he’ll never pass this degree, he’ll never get a decent job, he’ll never properly function as an adult.
It isn’t until James calls him in the afternoon that he’s stirred from these thoughts, woken from the trance that he’s been in.
Sirius doesn’t answer the first call. His phone vibrates on the nightstand, persistent but ignored, as he buries his face further into the pillow. When it rings again, the second time in quick succession, he groans, rolling over to grab it.
“What?” He asks, his voice hoarse and harsh.
“What’s wrong?” James asks immediately, his voice laced with worry and concern.
Sirius doesn’t respond right away, staring blankly at the ceiling again. “I don’t know,” he finally admits, the words tumbling out in a rush.
James seems to catch on. “What do you need to do today? Have you made a list?”
He lets out a breath. “I need to go to the library and I need to do a foodshop.”
James hums thoughtfully on the other end of the line. “Alright, here’s what we’re going to do. First things first, you’re going to get out of bed.”
Sirius hesitates, his body feeling leaden and unwilling to move. Resistantly, he says, “okay.”
“Then, you’re going to shower and then you’re going to go and find that Welshman of yours in the library.”
Sirius laughs despite himself.
“Don’t push yourself, just getting to the library is enough. Pop by tesco on your way home and get whatever you need. Once you’re home, you’re going to facetime me and we’re going to watch the Traitors together because I quite simply cannot believe that they left us on that cliffhanger last week.”
“Thank you.” Sirius says. Genuine.
“You’re welcome,” James replies with a grin in his voice. “I’ll stay on the phone if you’d like.”
He and James talk for a while. He doesn’t hang up until he walks through the library doors an hour later, feeling somewhat more relaxed but a mess either way.
He just needs to accept that he’s trying his best. He doesn’t always need to strive for perfection.
What he is doing is enough.
He tells himself that again and again as he walks the stairs down to his table. Remus is there again. The man looks up, an emotion that looks like relief showing for only a split second.
“I was starting to think you weren't coming.” Remus says.
He can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips. “I wouldn’t leave you hanging,” Sirius says, trying to sound casual.
Remus raises an eyebrow, a soft smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. “You’re late though,” he teases, leaning back slightly in his chair, though there's no malice in his tone—only the easy camaraderie that Sirius finds himself savoring more than he should.
“I had...a bit of a slow start today,” Sirius admits, rubbing the back of his neck as he pulls out his chair and sits down. He doesn’t mention the anxiety that’s been gnawing at him all morning, not when Remus looks so effortlessly at ease. “But I’m here now, right?”
“You are.” Remus nods with a small smile. “I’m glad you made it.”
Sirius feels fine for the first half an hour or so. He flicks through his lecture notes and manages a mind map and a half.
What sets him over the edge is a sentence in the book he’s reading for his dissertation. He’s read it eight times already, his brain not quite understanding it—not absorbing the words. He feels frustrated, fed up, ready to throw the towel in.
His eyes start to sting and he’s got a lump in his throat. He doesn’t want to cry here, he really doesn’t. He does his best to hold it in, to just fucking focus on his work. But the page is blurring and his mind is muddled.
“Sirius?” Remus says his name, a concerned and soft tone.
Sirius doesn’t look up. His cheeks burn. He blinks rapidly, hoping the burning in his eyes will subside, but it doesn't.
"Sirius?" Remus' voice is closer now. “Hey, are you alright?”
Sirius finally lifts his head, but he doesn’t meet Remus’ gaze. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he says, the words coming out too quickly, too defensively. He rubs at his eyes, embarrassed, and turns the page in his book even though he knows it’s pointless. He can't concentrate on it anymore.
Remus doesn't say anything immediately. Sirius feels a warm hand on his arm, a slight reassuring squeeze.
Sirius freezes at the touch, his heart suddenly racing. The tears are still threatening, the lump in his throat thick, but the softness in Remus' voice, the quiet reassurance in his touch, somehow makes it easier to breathe, even if just a little. He wipes at his eyes again, though it doesn’t really help.
“Sorry–I just— I need to go.”
He pulls his arm away from Remus’ touch. His skin burning from where his hand had been. Remus’s hand lingers for a second longer than it probably should, just a moment of hesitation before he pulls it back.
“Sirius–” Remus starts, but Sirius doesn’t let him finish.
He grabs his books, his laptop, his mind maps. He stuffs them in his bag with no care as to whether the pages fold. “I’m sorry. I just need to go.”
Remus doesn’t step closer, doesn’t try to stop him. “Okay. Just—take care of yourself, alright?”
Sirius pauses, his back to Remus, his grip tight on the strap of his bag. His throat feels raw, and he can barely manage to get the words out. “Yeah. Sure.”
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆
Sirius returns to the library the next day, guilt gnawing at him.
He’d treated Remus unfairly, he knows that. He knew it at the time, but he couldn’t think about anything beyond his instinct to run.
Sirius takes a deep breath as he pushes open the library doors. He’s been practicing his apology in his head, he has been all night. Once he’d gotten home, called James and calmed down, he knew immediately that he needed to apologise, to explain.
He struggled to sleep, the reminder of Remus’ face, his concerned look, the hurt in his eyes. The way his touch had grounded Sirius, even for just a second. The tingle of his skin, Remus’ lingering hand.
He feels awful, genuinely awful.
As he makes his way to their table. He’s upset to see it empty. He wanted to get the apology over and done with, to clear the air as soon as he could. Not only because he feels awful for how he treated Remus, but also because he wants to stop his whirling thoughts.
He waits.
And he waits.
He eats his meal deal and he gets his readings done. He makes it through the list he’d made that morning.
But he waits.
He stays for longer than he needs to. Remus never shows.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆
He considers not going to the library the next day. He’c convinced himself that he’s fucked it up, he’s offended Remus so badly that the man now doesn’t want to spend time with him anymore.
They’d gotten to a good place and Sirius had scared him off.
James and Regulus try to reassure him. They’re rational, and they tell him to consider that maybe Remus is just busy.
But Sirius doesn’t listen to them. He beats himself up, convincing himself that he’s ruined any chances he had with Remus—friend or not.
But he needs to print things out again today, so he drags himself to the library regardless.
He wonders if Remus will be there at all. He considers going to a different floor completely, preferring to live in ignorance. But he bites the bullet, and he heads towards the stairwell.
When he reaches the bottom, his heart leaps. Because Remus is there.
He’s seated in his usual spot at their table, head bent over a notebook, pen in hand as he jots something down. His headphones are on, and Sirius notices the faint bounce of his foot under the table, keeping time with whatever he’s listening to.
Relief floods Sirius so quickly he has to pause for a second, gathering himself before walking over. He rehearses his apology one more time in his head.
When he reaches the table, he clears his throat softly, not wanting to startle him.
Remus looks up, and for a moment, his expression is unreadable. His golden eyes flicker with something—surprise, maybe? Annoyance? Sirius isn’t sure.
“Hi,” Sirius says.
Remus pulls off his headphones, setting them on the table. “Hi.”
“You didn’t come yesterday.” Sirius points out, taking his seat.
Remus raises an eyebrow at the observation, his expression flickering with something unreadable. “I didn’t.” He doesn't elaborate, just lets the silence linger for a moment, before looking back at Sirius.
“I-um-I’m sorry about the other day.” Sirius begins. “I was worked up and I didn’t mean to offend you, I just–”
Remus stops him. “It’s okay Sirius. You didn’t offend me.”
The tension in Sirius’s chest loosens just a bit, but it doesn’t fully dissolve. “You didn’t come yesterday, I thought it was because of me.”
Remus shakes his head, a soft smile pulling at his lips. “I was having the time of my life at my best friend's girly sleepover for her birthday.”
Sirius laughs at the sarcasm in Remus’ voice. He feels relieved, embarrassed to have let his worries go so far.
“Tell me about it.” Sirius says, finally relaxing and settling properly into his chair.
Remus does. He tells him about the facemask that he was manipulated into wearing and the films that they watched. He admits that he enjoyed being a part of the girly gossip, saying that he’s not quite heard anything so juicy since secondary school.
They laugh together, and they talk about Lily and Marlene– their mutual friends, that Sirius had pretended he didn’t already know about.
Eventually, Sirius stands up to fetch a book he needs, glancing at the shelf across the room. It's a section tucked away, almost hidden, a quiet corner of the library that doesn't often get much foot traffic.
“Back in a minute,” he tells Remus.
Remus watches him go, Sirius can feel the eyes on him even with his back turned. He scans the shelves of the section it should be in, realising that it’s impossible to find. He scans them again and again.
He’s so focused, that when he feels somebody come up next to him, he jumps out of his skin.
He laughs awkwardly. “You scared me,” he tells Remus. “I can’t find my book–”
Remus kisses the sentence right out of his mouth.
The taller man lurches forward, one hand immediately settling on Sirius’ lower back. The other cradles his jaw, a soft yet guiding touch. It’s hot and urgent. It doesn’t take Sirius more than a second to immediately melt into it.
This is it . This is what he's been waiting for, anticipating, dreaming about.
It’s far better than he could’ve ever imagined.
Remus pushes him back, guiding him effortlessly against the shelves. Sirius’s heart is pounding, his chest tight, and everything else in the world fades away. The kiss deepens, a heated rush of desperation and need.
Remus’s lips move with an intensity that takes Sirius completely by surprise—he’s usually so calm, so composed—but at this moment, he’s anything but.
Sirius’s hands instinctively find Remus’s shirt, clutching it as he pulls him closer. Remus groans softly into the kiss and Sirius decides that he could die happily now that his ears have been blessed by that sound.
Every nerve in his body is on fire, alive in a way he’s never felt before. Remus bites at his lip and now it’s Sirius’ turn to groan, the taste of the man's tongue, the feeling of his hands roaming his body—it’s all so overwhelming in the best way.
They pull back, gasping for air.
“Are you–” Remus begins.
“Yeah. I’m—” He cuts himself off with another kiss, not even giving Remus a chance to finish his thought. He needs to feel that again. He needs to taste him again, feel the rush of their bodies pressed together, of the heat building between them.
Sirius’s hands slip to Remus’s neck, fingers curling into the soft hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him in deeper. He doesn’t think. He doesn’t second guess it. All that matters is Remus’s touch, Remus’s warmth, the way their bodies fit together like they were always meant to.
Eventually, they pull apart again, breathless, lips swollen and tingling.
“Wow” Sirius sounds out, hardly managing to comprehend anything else to say.
Remus hums in agreement, catching Sirius’ drift.
“I didn’t think– you hardly even know me.” Sirius says.
Remus shrugs, a grin spreading. “My friends searched you on facebook. I know enough.”
Sirius can’t help the laugh that escapes him. “James did the same thing.”
They’re both laughing now. Uncontrollable belly laughs with zero volume control. Remus’ hands are still settled firmly on his waist, head bent every so slightly to look at Sirius.
A loud “shush” interrupts them. Remus’ eyes go comically wide and Sirius can’t help but laugh even more.
“We should go.” Sirius says, trying to catch his breath.
Remus nods, his cheeks flushed red from both the embarrassment, the kisses and the laughter.
“Coffee?”
Sirius grins. “Definitely.”