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“I think,” James said, lying with his head tipped off the edge of the bed. He was tossing a snitch up and down, and still managing to stare at Sirius over the rim of his glasses, “You should tell him.”

Sirius scowled, “I think,” He said, pausing to mock him, “You should kill yourself.”

James rolled his eyes and sat up properly, letting the snitch flutter off deep into the dorm,  “Oh come on,” He whinged, “It’s Valentine’s day on Saturday, it’d be romantic!”

Sirius felt the tips of his eyes heat up, and he refused to look at the other boy, “For fuck’s sake, James, it’s,” He swallowed heavily, despite being alone in the dorm room. His voice dropped to a whisper, “ Moony. He doesn’t care about that stuff.”

“Sure he does.” James said, shaking his head, “Moony likes chocolate and sweets, and-”

“Right, so I’ll buy him a bag of berties botts, perfect, James, so romantic. I do that anyway, every Hogsmead weekend.” Sirius clenched his fists and wished James would leave him to suffer his pining in silence. He’d been that way since the Summer, and Sirius had gotten a bit loose-lipped off of Fleamont’s homebrew under the sink, and confessed the full reason he’d gotten disowned.

Since then, James-bloody-Wingman-Potter had taken it upon himself to appoint himself matchmaker. Any time they spent alone, he tortured Sirius, trying to get him to talk about his feelings. Feelings Sirius would very much like to pretend did not exist, at least during the daylight.

James frowned and moved to sit cross-legged on Sirius’s bed, kicking his magazine out of his hands and onto the floor.

“Hey-!”

“It’d have to be something big.” James plotted, “Something really good to get his attention.”

“I do not want his attention-”

“What about a prank!” James said suddenly, his face lighting up with a beaming grin. “Moony loves pranks. We could make it a really good one.”

Sirius fell back on the bed, lifting his pillow and putting his face in it. He was torn between screaming into it and smothering himself. “Prongs mate.”

“Oh come on,” James said, snatching the pillow and climbing on top of him, peering right into his face, “We could make it anonymous, he’d never have to know it’s you!”

“Surely the whole point is for him to know it’s me!” Sirius said, exasperatedly. 

James waved his hands, dangerously close to Sirius’s precious face,  “That’s all semantics. Maybe you’ll woo him along the way! Oooh, maybe we could do a big reveal, how much does Moony like fireworks?”

“Not very much.” Sirius said, inching back as far as the mattress would let him, “On account of the sensitive werewolf ears and all.”

“Moony likes books, so writing, pages, envelopes.” James stopped suddenly and sat bolt upright on Sirius’ chest, “I’ve got it.”

The gay thing hadn’t bothered James at all.

“You don’t got it.” Sirius said, and his voice was pleading.

“Letters.” James jabbed Sirius in the chest, “Love letters!”

“Oh no,” Sirius said, shoving the other man off him and stalking away, “No love letters.” He was still looking at James when he walked into a broad wall, far too close to be made of stone. 

“Aw.” The wall said, with a dazzling grin and snarky raised eyebrow, “No love letters?”

Sirius jumped backwards as Remus dumped his satchel onto his bed, “What’s this then, lads?” Moony asked, peeling off his outer robes and loosening his tie. Sirius wanted to look away, but his eyes were treacherous and lingered on the other man. “What poor girl isn’t getting any love letters?”

“All of them,” James said. The bastard.  “Sirius doesn’t want to do a prank.”

“Christ.” Remus said, his eyes shooting to Sirius in mock concern, he came over and felt Sirius’ forehead with his lovely burning hands, “You feeling alright mate?”

His eyes were golden and crinkled with laughter. Sirius felt pinned beneath the weight of them. “Peachy.” He managed, “It’s just a shit prank.” 

Sirius felt like he was about to burst into flames; it was made a thousand times worse by James’ knowing, smug presence. When it was just him and Moony, Sirius could manage a sense of forced normalcy, but when James was around, Sirius felt under a microscope, like his feelings were an elephant taking up the whole room. 

“It’s not shit, you’re shit.” James pouted, and Remus laughed, finally moving back to his bed and perching on the end. Sirius felt like he was able to breathe again once the man was out of touching range. 

“Go on then, what is it?” Remus asked, leaning forward conspiratorially.

“That’s it!” Sirius said, waving his hands as if that closed the matter, “That’s all he’s got, love letters!”

James rolled his eyes, “Love letters on Valentine's Day.”

“Right,” Remus said, turning back to Sirius with his round, staring eyes, “So it’s still in its early stages. That still doesn’t explain why you’re not game. Usually, you’re immediately down for anything.”

Sirius blinked, not wanting to acknowledge how particularly true that statement was. 

“He just doesn’t want the person he fancies to know he fancies them,” James said casually, as if he hadn’t betrayed Sirius. Sirius snatched the nearest object and threw it at him. 

“Merlin,” James said, winking at him, and catching Peter’s homework deftly in his hands, “Touchy.”

“Didn’t know you fancied someone, Sirius?” Moony said, tilting his head, “Not like you to keep secrets.”

“Haven’t you noticed he hasn’t had a girlfriend in ages?” James said, “He’s fully invested in this one, mate,”

“ James. ” Sirius seethed, shrivelling inside with the way Remus was staring at him, trying to work it out. His cheeks were burning, and Remus was a smart man. 

“Well, five months isn’t exactly ages, Prongs,” Moony said, leaning back in his bed, still propped up on his elbows to look at them. It was a terribly attractive angle for him, although most were.

“It’s been longer than that, Moons. There was no one over the Summer either, and he and Mary broke up in,” James stifled, realising he was in dangerous territory, “May.”

May.

Sirius looked down at his hands. May was the other reason Remus deserved to be free from the burden of Sirius’ feelings. The night in which Sirius had fucked everything up for everyone. The reason Sirius knew there was no point even fantasising if things were mutual, because how could anyone like someone who had betrayed them so deeply? 

Remus still didn’t know the full reason why, but he’d forgiven Sirius anyway, after a long, horrible summer of Sirius relying much too heavily on Fleamont’s aforementioned homebrew to be able to sleep through the nightmares. Only James knew, and his family. 

Snape had caught him looking. At Remus, obviously, not at his horrible, greasy hooked nose. He was a wonderful snitch and wrote a nice, long letter apologising to Sirius’ parents on the news of their homosexual heir. Sirius had received the howler at breakfast, but he’d received enough howlers at this point to recognise the Scarlett letter; besides, most of his letters from home were howlers. He grabbed it and set off alone to open it, telling him never to return home ever again.  

He’d wanted Snape hurt, and he’d used Moony to do it. 

That had been May.

“Yeah, well,” Sirius said, trying to move on from that, “I don’t want another girlfriend.”

James’ eyes twinkled at him, “I know you don’t.”

James was a demon. In the next Quidditch match, Sirius was going to hit every single bludger in his direction.

“Are you thinking school-wide?” Remus said, still strategizing, “Or just specifically this one…person.”

Sirius couldn’t help but notice the lack of gendered pronouns.

“School-wide.” James answered immediately, “I want everyone to feel like they’re at Madame Puddifoots.”

Remus grinned mischievously. Sirius loved it when he did that. It showed off the lovely chip in his canine that Sirius desperately wanted to lick. He flickered a look at Sirius. “Well, why don’t we have our own Madame Paddifoots here at Hogwarts?”

“Madame Paddifoots.” James whispered, breathless, “Moony, you’re a fucking genius. Madame Paddifoot, get The Notebook.”

“I’ll kill myself if you call me that ever again,” Sirius said sullenly, but he got The Notebook.

The book itself wasn’t anything special. Remus had refused to use parchment as first year and had brought with him a bunch of Muggle notebooks, citing their usefulness in having all his notes in one place. Sirius agreed with him, although Sirius agreed about most things.

They had planned their first prank in it, and then their second, their third, and every one since. The notebook had become thick and stuffed with extra pages, magically enlarged and a bastard to work with. They kept it in a shoebox at the top of Peter and Remus’ shared wardrobe.

“What’s wrong?” Remus called, teasing as Sirius grabbed a chair, and stretched up to reach for the shoebox, “Not like Madame Paddifoot?” His smile was loose and easy, and so was the laugh that followed it, coming from somewhere deep in his chest.

Look at him. Bloody look at him.

“Just don’t think it’s dignified, is all!” Sirius said petulantly, clambering down inelegantly and moving to place The Notebook in the middle of James’ bed, as per usual Prank Planning code. 

Remus’ eyes followed his every move, “Since when did you care about dignity?”

Fucking hell.

“If you’re done, fellas-” James started, voice full of amusement. Sirius jumped, having almost completely forgotten he was there.

“Done what?” Sirius snapped nervously, “We weren’t doing anything.”

“Right, of course.” James said, raising his eyebrows at him, “Anyway, Madame Paddifoots-”

“Which we are not calling it-”

“We need more. Like, are we going to turn the great hall into a replica of Madame Puddifoots? Absolutely.” James gestured slightly in frustration, “But we need more.”

“What if,” Remus began, biting his lip, “We paired people up, like if two people write a letter to each other."

“Moony’s playing matchmaker.” James said, rubbing his hands, “Okay, emphatic yes to that. I still like the letters, y’know. But do we give people the opportunity to write their own? Or do we take the initiative?” 

“That could be dodgy.” Sirius said quickly, “What if we get it wrong? Or one person doesn’t like the other, and they’re stuck.” He couldn’t imagine a date with Remus where it didn’t end with Sirius throwing himself at him and being rejected. Even in a place as woeful as Madame Puddifoots.

James frowned, “Surely it couldn’t be that bad?”

“Well, Snape obviously fancies Lily.” Sirius said, “And he’s a horrible git, so we couldn’t subject Lily to that.”

James nodded in agreement, “He is a horrible git.”

“We could do a postbox, y’know, the way Muggles do post?” Remus said, “Get people to sign off?”

Sirius shook his head, “People won’t do it if it’s not anonymous.” 

Remus looked at him, and Sirius made sure not to look back, convinced he was as transparent as glass.

“Right,” James said, frowning, “So you don’t want to match people, and you don’t want love letters.”

“Anonymous love letters.” Sirius said, “We stick a postbox in the hall, transform the place into Madame Puddifoots, and everyone gets a nice letter on the day. If people want to put their names on it, or confess, or whatever, totally on them.”

“Not much of a prank though, is it?” James said skeptically.

“Singing!” Remus said, sitting upright with his finger in the air. 

“Merlin Moons,” James winced, “You’re tone deaf, mate.”

“No, muppet. Singing letters.” Remus rolled his eyes, looking at Sirius, “Are you writing this down?”

“Yes,” Sirius said, he wasn’t, but he hastened to do so upon Remus’ request, perhaps a little too quickly. 

“Before we go any further, I’m going to get Pete.” Remus said, standing, “He’s just in the common room, and he’s better at brainstorming.”

James nodded, and at least did Sirius the favour of waiting till he was out of the room before leaning forwards and hissing, “You’re whipped mate.”

Sirius shook his head, still bent low over The Notebook and hastily taking down everything said before, “Shuddup.” He whispered back threateningly, “I will hurt you.” 

Sirius wasn’t entirely sure why he was going along with the plan at all. Probably just because Remus was enjoying it. Sure, it was going to end in Sirius’ abject and sorrowful humiliation, but Moony had such a wonderful plotting grin, and if this was going to be the last time he was ever allowed to see it, then Sirius should make the most of it.

Remus came back with Peter in tow, and they all crammed on James’ bed. Remus was opposite him, their legs slightly overlapping. Sirius was trying not to notice the contact and was truly unsuccessful. He should revel in it now before Remus never looked at him again, and the whole school heard his feelings sung allowed.

Sirius swallowed, his stomach falling. Merlin, that wasn’t-he couldn’t-

“James, mate.” He said softly, “Maybe some of them shouldn’t sing to everyone.”

James looked at him inquisitively, and he hadn’t been quiet enough, as now Remus and Peter were also looking at him. “Why?” Remus asked carefully. 

“Well, it’s just,” Sirius said, feeling frightened and tiptoeing, “I mean, what if a girl sends one to another girl, and I mean. Not everyone’s okay with that.”

Peter sat forward, “Do you think there’s someone like that at Hogwarts?” He said, his eyes were round with the idea of scandal, ever the gossip.

“Probably.” James said, leaping to his defense, “It is the seventies after all.” His tone was disapproving, and Peter seemed somewhat cowed by the response. 

“I mean, it’s fine with me.” He said, looking at James for reassurance, “Obviously.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Remus said gently, “Quite thoughtful really.”

“Well, what if some had confetti?” Peter suggested, “Or were delivered in a cool way, like an owl doing a flip, or something.”

“Worms, my man,” James kissed his fingers together like a French chef, “Keep going. You’re on a roll. Remus lad, me and you’ll get started on the Postbox.”

Sirius hovered nearby, feeling like he’d done nothing really to contribute. He lifted his wand, “What if I got the Postbox to sing? Every time someone puts something in it, some daft love song or something?"

“Oh-fun yes,” James nodded, the pink feathery monstrosity of a Postbox having taken shape, it had been made from Potter’s slipper, and still had a faint leathery sheen. 

Sirius’ eyes flickered to Remus, and he gripped his wand, tapping the box neatly and muttering an enchantment. Music floated out of it immediately, slightly grainy before smoothing out properly.

“You're just too good to be true.” 

Remus grinned, “Frankie Valli, my mum loves this one.”

“Can't take my eyes off of you.”

Sirius nodded, biting his bottom lip and not looking at him. Sirius knew that, of course, he did; it was the only song he ever heard Remus sing. He tended to hum under his breath while he was studying, or in the shower, and Sirius loved it. James was staring at him and mouthing the word “ Sop .” over and over again.

“We’ll have to read them.” Peter said, looking up from where he was scripting out a list of possible letter deliveries, “If we’re deciphering which one not to be read aloud, I mean, we’ll have to know the contents, won’t we?”

“True.” Remus nodded, “I suppose, any addressed to ourselves, we’ll give to another marauder. And anything we learn, we won’t spread about. Right, Peter?”

“I’m not a gossip!” Peter said, but he was grinning, because he was.

“Peter, you can do the charms and stuff.” James decided, “We’ll do all the moderation, since you can’t be trusted.”

Peter rolled his eyes, “Oh, alright,” He acquiesced, “But promise you’ll tell me if it’s juicy.”

The rest of the evening passed similarly, and by the end of the night, the Postbox had lost its leathery sheen (although it still kept that faint foot smell) and was now enchanted, so once a letter had been posted, it could not be removed by anyone who wasn’t a marauder. Peter had created multiple different ways to be delivered, and Sirius had contributed nothing but a daft and pointed love song.

*

James planned to announce the Postbox first thing and carried it the entire way to breakfast. Still blaring Sirius’ devotion the entire way. He’d meant to only charm it so the music played when a letter was posted, but he’d not been well-focused, and the blasted thing had been playing all night. 

You'd be like Heaven to touch

I wanna hold you so much

Remus caught his eye and smiled, not properly woken up yet. Remus usually presented himself quite neatly, but James had woken them up extra early to get there first, so he was faintly disheveled today. There was still sleep in his eye, and his hair was rumpled from where he’d been sleeping on it, sticking up in a cowlick at the side of his head. Sirius wanted to touch it, push it flat to see if it would spring back.

He looked away before Remus could see his cheeks go beetroot.

The Great Hall was cold that morning, and they were indeed among the first there. James left the Postbox at the entrance, sure that more people were likely to use it without the entirety of the Great Hall watching them. 

Still, every time the doors swung open, Sirius could hear the song filter through a little louder. It was hard to be angry at, with Remus muttering along as he buttered his toast.

The Great Hall filled quickly, with a few mutters as to what exactly was happening out there. James was buzzing with excitement, and it started to spill over second-hand to Sirius. Sirius looked at Remus. His letter could be entirely anonymous, just a reason for Sirius to write a long paragraph of how much he adores Remus, without giving away who he was.

Remus would feel good about himself, thinking some girl was walking around out there in love with him, and James would get off his back about confessing. It was a win-win for everyone involved.

James stood up on the table, his wand pointed at his throat to louden his voice, “My friends, my peers!” He called dramatically, “T’is the season of luuuuuurve.” He threw his hand in the air, and a cloud of rose petals rained down on the Gryffindor table. Professor McGonagal sighed, but didn’t look up from her newspaper. She really only got involved these days if there was blood.

Remus picked a rose petal out of his tea, “Dickhead.” He muttered fondly, loud enough for only Sirius to hear.

“Valentine’s day is nearly upon us,” James said, waggling his eyebrows, “And who better to play cupid than your favourite marauders? Now, I’m sure a lot of you saw our lovely pink postbox at the doors.”

Remus sniggered into his tea, “Sounds like a euphemism.”

Sirius sniggered back, childishly, “You want to see James’ lovely pink postbox, Moons?” Moony laughed, covering his hand with his mouth. 

“And you are wondering, wow, what is a lovely pink postbox doing there?”

Remus collapsed in giggles on Sirius's shoulder, those lovely hiccuping ones he did when he was still half-asleep and everything was funny to him. Sirius grinned, enjoying the attention.

“Oh, shush, Remus.” James scowled at him, still speaking into his wand. 

“Oi Potter.” Lily Evans said, standing at his feet with her arms crossed, “Would you move? You’re standing on the sausages.”

“Oh, right, yes.” James hopped forward and continued addressing the year groups, “Now, anyone can use this box-” James did not look at Remus, who had tears streaming down his face, “-And the aim is it is to spread love!” He had another round of petals, but they didn’t bring as much drama as they did the first time, and James seemed disappointed by the crowd's lack of reaction to them.

Sirius tugged on the hem of his trousers, “Maybe speed it up a bit, mate?”

James nodded, “Yeah, alright. Okay, Hogwarts - here’s how this works! You’ve got until the end of the day to drop in your letter, any letter! Doesn’t matter who it’s to! It can be anonymous, or you could be brave,” He glared in Sirius’ direction pointedly, “And sign your name! Or, if you don’t fancy anyone at the minute, you can write a nice letter to a friend! The only rule is nothing mean, unless it’s to Snape, then, yeah, okay, that’s fair game.”

He stood down from the table, and the Great Hall’s volume rose, everyone leaning across the bench to discuss it. 

McGonagall called down the length of the hall, “Twenty points from Gryffindor for standing on the breakfast table, Mr. Potter.” She still hadn’t looked up from her paper.

James plopped back onto the bench beside Sirius with the energy of someone very pleased with himself and the minor chaos he’d just unleashed on Hogwarts and grinned. “Worth it.” He grabbed a piece of toast and leaned across the table towards the other marauders, “Have you written your letters yet?”

He looked at Sirius hard over the rim of his glasses, and Sirius ignored him. He hadn’t written a proper one, not yet at least. He had a thousand pages of garbled rubbish in his bag, but not one of them was worthy of sending to Remus. Besides, Sirius still hadn’t properly decided if he was even going to send one at all. 

Peter, bless him, jumped in unknowingly helpful. “I don’t even know who to write to. There’s just-” he gestured vaguely at the Hufflepuff table, “- so many pretty girls. What if I pick the wrong one and they all hate me?”

“Just write one to yourself,” Remus said without looking up from his tea. “Safest option.”

James smirked. “That what you did, Moony?”

Remus paused, blowing on his tea to cool it down, “No.” 

James raised an eyebrow. “So you did write one.”

Sirius wanted desperately for the man to say no. The very last thing he would be able to deal with would be Remus having a crush. It would probably be requited too, everyone loved Remus. And if it would make Remus happy, then the last thing Sirius would be able to do is stand in the way of it. It would be horrifying, but Sirius would just have to witness it.

Remus finally looked up, expression unreadable but a little too casual. “I might’ve. Maybe. Just to be festive.” His voice was layered in sarcasm, and Sirius couldn’t tell if he was being genuine or not.

James leaned back, satisfied. “Well, I hope one of you has the guts to sign your name. An anonymous note’s fun and all, but what’s Valentine’s without a little risk?”

“Public humiliation isn’t everyone’s thing, Prongs,” Remus said dryly, rolling his eyes. 

James shrugged; it was very much his thing. “Moony, Pads- you two’ve got a free now, yeah?”

Sirius blinked. “Yeah, why?”

James pointed at him with the toast. “We still need the charms for the Hall; floating tea sets, ambient lighting, the pink ceiling effect, the whole wazoo,”

“Okay, and?” Remus asked. 

“Well, tonight we’ll have to sort the letters, and transform the Great Hall, so I’m not sure how much time we’ll have for research.” James gave them a charismatic grin, “So if you guys could sort that -” He was interrupted by the heavy grandfather clock striking nine, and its enchanted echo played all over the castle. Students began collecting their things, shuffling off to their first classes with varying levels of dread.

James shoved the last bite of toast in his mouth and slung his bag over his shoulder. “C’mon, Pete, Charms,” he mumbled, then clapped Sirius on the shoulder, bending low to whisper in his ear, “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Sirius elbowed him, “Go away.”

Peter stood too, looking vaguely panicked. “What if I write three letters and they all accidentally go to the same girl? That’s, like, emotional sabotage.”

“Then she’ll feel very admired,” James said cheerfully, dragging him toward the exit. “Come on, Casanova.”

Sirius stood slowly, brushing crumbs from his sleeves. He didn’t look at Remus. “So, Library then?”

Remus drained the last of his tea and poured another cup, retrieving the flask he kept in his bag for that very reason. “Two seconds.” He said, concentrating so he didn’t scald himself. “Alright, should we hit the postbox first?”

“Wait,” Sirius said, incredulously, “You wrote one?”

Remus shrugged, “Didn’t you?” Sirius felt slapped, and he ducked his head, not answering. 

So Moony did like someone. Sirius wasn’t sure how to deal with that. Misery wrapped around his shoulders like a heavy blanket. 

Remus didn’t look at him as they exited the Great Hall,  lingering beside the enchanted postbox. There was a bit of a queue already, and they found themselves at the back of the line. Remus pulled an orange envelope from his pocket, well-worn and bent. He thumbed it nervously, and Sirius ducked his head, not looking.

Whoever received that would be very lucky. Sirius thought mournfully. He had no right to be upset. Moony had allowed him the privilege of being his friend again, and Sirius had no right to want anymore.

Sirius hesitated. “I haven’t written mine yet.”

Remus glanced at him. “Really?”

Sirius shrugged, suddenly very interested in the toe of his boot. “I keep... not knowing what to say.” They moved forward with the line, Remus’ elbow bumping into his.

“Since when has that ever stopped you?” Remus asked. Remus looked at him properly now. His expression wasn’t teasing anymore, just quiet, and maddeningly perceptive.

Sirius gave a short laugh. “Yeah, well. It’s different when it’s someone you care about.” The words slipped out before he could stop them, and Remus seemed startled by them. Sirius studied him out of the corner of his eye, trying to tell if the twitch of Remus’s lip meant anything. 

“So why not write it then? If this person…means so much to you?” Remus said, 

Sirius stared at the floor, then at the postbox, then back at Remus. “I’ve started it,” he admitted. “A few times. It just always ends up sounding... fake. Or worse, too bloody obvious.”

“Too obvious to who?” Remus asked. It was finally their turn at the post box, and Sirius watched miserably as Remus slid his letter through. The postbox gave a cheerful little ding as it accepted it, like it was mocking Sirius. A little puff of heart-shaped confetti shot into the air above them, clinging to their robes.

“Everyone.” Sirius said, plucking one out of his hair, “Sometimes it feels like everyone can tell, like I can’t hide it.” He was skating on dangerously thin ice, talking to Remus about his feelings for him, no matter how vague he was being. 

They started walking to the library, and Remus kept looking at him curiously. “So James knows?” He asked, Sirius nodded tightly.

“And it’s obvious?”

Sirius hesitated. “Why—why does that matter?”

“Because you told James,” Remus said, too quickly. “And if it’s so obvious, then... would I know too?”

Sirius swallowed, waiting till a group of giggling third years had passed before answering him. “I didn’t tell James,” he said. “Not really. He guesses things. You know how he is.”

“But he guessed.” Remus was walking a little too fast, and Sirius was having to scurry to keep up with him now. 

“Moony, will you stop for a second?” Sirius caught the other man by the arm, and Remus stopped, reluctantly, but didn’t turn to face him.

Sirius moved to stand beside him, tense and uncertain. “Moony,” He said quietly, “I would tell you, but you wouldn’t want to know.”

Remus glanced at him suddenly, his eyes piercing right through him, as if looking for something. For a moment, Sirius was worried he might tell him, without the letter. He could never lie to Moony, not again. 

“Right,” Remus said, too evenly. “Fair enough.”

Sirius blinked. “I didn’t mean it like-”

“No, it’s fine,” Remus said, with a thin, too-bright smile. “Honestly. You don’t have to explain.”

He turned as if to go, then paused. Composed himself. When he looked back at Sirius, it was with that polished kind of calm that meant the opposite of calm. He gave a little shrug, stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I hope whoever it is... figures it out.”

His voice caught just slightly on the last word, but he smoothed over it fast, like a wrinkle in his collar. All neat edges, nothing to see. 

Sirius stood there, feeling like the floor had shifted under him. Caught between guilt and confusion, unsure which part of the conversation he’d just fumbled.

“Come on,” Remus said quietly. “Let’s go to the library.” Sirius hesitated, willing to say something that would get that hurt look off of Remus’ face. Remus turned and started walking before he could,  and Sirius followed silently, the space between them heavier than it had ever been.

The Library was relatively quiet for a Friday Morning, and they had a table to themselves again, tucked behind a tall shelf of Defence volumes. Pale sunlight streamed through the large, rounded window, pointing out the dust flakes dancing in the air between them.

Remus was flipping through a book absently, tapping his quill against the margin like he wasn’t reading it. “There’s a minor levitation charm McGonagall mentioned once,” he said lightly, not looking at Sirius. “Used to make tablecloths float without creasing them. I think we could tweak it for the tea sets.”

“Yeah,” Sirius said, only half-listening, “That’d work.”

“Do you know what you want to say?” Remus said quickly, flicking his eyes up to Sirius briefly, returning to his book, “In your letter?”

Sirius bit his lip, “I do,” He admitted, “I think that might be my problem. I have a full essay I could write about them. I can’t narrow it down to something concise. So far, I’ve just got pages of nonsensical rambling.” Sirius shut his mouth firmly, before it could betray him further.

Remus' breath hitched just slightly, and he raised an eyebrow at the textbook, “Pages?” he asked softly.

Sirius nodded, feeling foolish, “What did you write in yours?” He asked, desperate to change the subject but even more desperate not to know the answer.

Remus turned a page a little too sharply. “Mine wasn’t a love letter.”

Sirius blinked. “Oh.” Relief felt like a tidal wave.

“Just a nice thing,” Remus added quickly, tone clipped. “To someone who probably won’t even guess it’s from me.”

“That’s still nice, Moons.” Sirius said softly, “Who’s it too?”

Remus shrugged petulantly, “Well,” he said, pushing his fringe out of his eyes, “If you don’t have to tell me, I don’t have to tell you.”

Sirius ducked his head, feeling rebuked. He watched Remus through his eyelashes, the soft flick of his hair over one eye, the way his brow furrowed when he was half-focused, half-elsewhere. Sirius wanted to tell him the truth, as much as he was able to, of course.

He cleared his throat.

“Remus.”

Remus glanced up. “Hmm?”

“The reason I haven’t told you who it is.” Sirius hesitated, heart pounding. 

Remus stilled. His quill stopped moving. He looked at Sirius carefully, but not with hope. Just quiet restraint. “Yes?”

Sirius looked down at his hands, then up again. The silence lingered, delicate and thin between them. He tapped his fingers against the edge of his chair. His eyes weren’t on Remus anymore. They were on the pile of parchment in his bag, the draft letters he’d never send.

“It’s not a girl,” he said finally, like forcing the words out might steady his heart. “The person I wrote the pages about. It’s a bloke.”

Remus didn’t move right away. His gaze stayed fixed on the page in front of him, but his shoulders had gone still.

“Right,” he said eventually, voice gentler than Sirius expected. “Okay.”

It wasn’t cold. But it wasn’t exactly warm either.

Sirius gave a soft, nervous laugh.

“Sorry. Not that I think you’d care. Just figured I should say it out loud, for once.”

Remus looked over at him, then his expression was unreadable, like he’d expected a different answer and was unsure where to put this one. “And you haven’t sent it,” Remus said, quieter now. “Because…?”

Sirius shrugged, all false nonchalance, feeling like his mouth was running without his permission, “Because it’s a mess, they’re probably not even,” He squared his shoulders, “Like me.”

Remus stared at him for a long moment. And then he looked back down at his book, the line of his jaw tightening. “Well. That’s fair,” he said softly. Something about his posture had changed, his shoulders a little higher, voice a little more distant, like he was curling inward.

Sirius felt it immediately. “What?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light, to hide the devastation he felt. “Is it too weird for you?”

“No, just… I don’t know.” Remus said, too quickly.  He flipped a page. “Bit of a surprise, I guess.”

Sirius flinched back, “Right.” He said softly, “Okay.” Sirius felt like he should apologise, and shrank back in his chair. What had he been thinking? Of course, Remus wouldn’t be fine with it, 

Remus closed his book and stood up. He didn’t look angry, but he wasn’t looking at Sirius either. “I’m going to look for the ambient charm notes,” he said, too calmly. “We’ll need them for the table settings.”

Because it was the 70s, and even in a school of magic, being like that was still a kind of curse. Still something people whispered about, even if they never said it outright. He was already too much, too loud, too dramatic, too Sirius Black. Now he was this, too.

Sirius sat in the shameful silence he’d been left in. The memory slammed into him like a blow to the chest. Fifth year. The owl post. The Howler that had landed with a sharp clatter in the middle of the Gryffindor table, red wax glinting like blood. He’d snatched it before anyone had seen it and opened it in one of the unused bathrooms.

The second it started screaming in his mother’s voice, he knew what it was. We warned you what would happen. You chose shame. And behind it, as always, was Snape, smug and vindictive, following him from the Great Hall and bursting in when Sirius’ anger was flaring a little too high.

Snape, who’d seen the way Sirius looked at Remus a little too long, a little too soft. Who’d written to the Blacks like it was a favor. He’d never gone home; he was burned off the tapestry before he could even plead his case.

Sirius would be the first to admit he disliked his parents, but they were his parents. Something in him cracked when his letters came back with return-to-sender marked on them. Walburga had been many things in his life, but she’d never been silent.

Remus returned after a minute with a heavy tomb clutched to his chest. He didn’t look once in Sirius’ direction when he sat down, just immediately flipped to the chapter index and started scanning for what he needed. 

Sirius felt it all over again. The same rejection. The same cold stillness. It didn’t matter that Remus wasn’t yelling. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t calling him unnatural or shameful. The silence said enough. It was the same awful silence people used when they couldn’t look at you the same anymore.

And Remus, his bloody Moony, of all people, couldn’t even look at him. Of course, he isn’t. Sirius sniffled before he could help it. Remus jerked toward him, his eyes wide and round, “Sirius-?”

“Forget it,” Sirius muttered thickly, grabbing one of the textbooks from the pile and flipping to a random page. “It doesn’t matter.”

Sirius felt the shame slide under his ribs like it never left. Felt fifteen again. Felt burned.

Remus frowned, still concerned despite his obvious disdain, “No-are you-”

“Let’s just finish the stupid charms. ” Sirius said, his voice was sharp this time, and his fingers clenched around the book. He felt as if he might implode if Remus continued scrutinising him. Sirius closed his eyes to avoid it, “ Please, Moony.”

Remus opened his mouth like he might argue, then closed it again, nodding with pursed lips. 

Sirius stared down at the open book in front of him, not reading a word. His throat burned.

They didn’t touch the topic again, and Sirius was grateful for it. If he had to see Remus’ thinly veiled disgust again, he thought he would lose it, right there in the library for all to see.

They went through the motions of it. James had wanted bunting to shoot out flowers every time a letter was delivered, and neither of them were able to concentrate on the proper enchantment to make it happen.

Remus didn’t say anything about the way Sirius avoided looking at him. Sirius didn’t say anything about the way Remus kept stealing glances, like he wanted to fix something but didn’t know where to begin. When it came time to separate for class, Remus had Runes, Sirius had Divination, and the goodbye between them was less than perfunctory. Remus gave him just a stiff nod and a mumbled “see you later,” before stalking off down the corridor in the opposite direction.

Sirius stood in the corridor a full minute after Remus had walked off, staring at nothing, feeling as if someone had hollowed him out with a spell he didn’t know the name of.

At least Sirius knew the answer now, and there was no point in coming up with a proper letter now, not if he wanted Moony to look at him like a mate ever again.

He moved through the morning like a ghost. He didn’t remember what he said in Divination, only that Professor Lacey gave him a confused look and told him to redo his star chart. In the corridor, someone laughed too loudly and Sirius flinched. 

The faces around him blurred, friends, classmates, girls who giggled and waved, and he barely registered any of it. The castle felt off-kilter, like it had been quietly rotated a few degrees when he wasn’t looking. Every time someone said Remus’s name, Sirius’s stomach twisted. He kept hearing the silence, that long pause in the library, and telling himself it didn’t matter, didn’t stop it from aching.

By the time he made it to the Great Hall for lunch, his hands were cold and his appetite had vanished. He sat at the Gryffindor table and stared at his plate, not touching it, jaw clenched so tightly it hurt.

Remus and Peter hadn’t arrived yet; they both had runes together, and it was on the other side of the castle. The only marauder at the Gryffindor table was James, and Sirius sat down opposite him hurriedly. 

“I’m not doing it, Prongs.” He said, “It’s not going to work.”

James frowned at him, his spoonful of vegetable broth hovering in the air, “What are you talking about?”

“The letters!” Sirius exclaimed, “I told Remus about…me. And he hasn’t taken it well at all.”

“Wait!” James’ voice dropped to a whisper, “You told him?”

“Not all of it, not that I fancy him.” Sirius shook his head, “Just about me, and blokes. And he’s gone funny, so it’s not happening. Alright.” Sirius grabbed a bread roll and started furiously buttering it. His decision was final, and nothing James could say would talk him out of it. 

James rolled his eyes, “Are you sure you’re reading it right?” He asked, slurping obnoxiously on the soup, “Just it’d be a bit hypocritical of Moony, with him being Moony and all.”

Sirius scowled, “It’s not the same thing.”

James ignored him, “And besides, Moony’s definitely into men.”

Sirius dolled himself out some soup and tried not to ask. Unfortunately, the itching became too much to bear, and he glared hard at his bowl, “How d’you know that?” He questioned sullenly. 

“Well,” James said, “I like Freddie Mercury, yeah? But Remus likes him.”

“For fuck sake, Prongs.” Sirius pinched his mouth, “That’s nothing.”

“And.” James added, “I see the way he looks at you.”

Sirius clenched his fist around his spoon, “Should’ve seen the way he was looking at me earlier.” His voice got dangerously thick, and he scowled more to mask it. He stared blurrily at his soup. 

“Wait, he wasn’t nasty, was he?” James said protectively, leaning forward and touching Sirius’ arm, “I’ll have a right word with him if he was.”

“No,” Sirius shook his head quickly, “He wasn’t, please don’t say anything, James, I’d really rather just let it all go back to normal.”

“Pads, mate.” James patted his arm and withdrew, “This is normal. Everything about you is normal.”

Sirius' eyes caught a glimpse of Remus and Peter coming through the door and sat back, “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” He said, “Can we please leave it?”

“Yeah, alright,” James said, giving Remus an eye as the other man sat down. 

Peter smiled at them, oblivious to it all, “Alright, men?” He said happily, “Remus was just telling me all about the library!”

“He was?” Sirius asked quickly, turning to Remus. Remus gave him a funny look, and Sirius shrank, feeling betrayed.  

“Yeah, the bunting?” Peter said, confused. “He said you worked out the flowers thing. And the pink ceiling.”

“Oh right,” Sirius nodded, relief blooming in his chest, “Yeah all sorted mate.”

James interjected with the decoration plans for the evening, after lights out, and for once in his life, Sirius was happy to settle into the background. 

The last few days had just been too much: his feelings, the letters, the way Remus was still staring at him curiously, which was much worse than him not looking at all. 

He was almost grateful when the clock struck one o’clock, and it was time for them to head back to class. Sirius had a double Potions with James all afternoon, and both Remus had Peter had dropped it after OWLs. Usually Sirius would’ve lamented the loss of a full afternoon with Remus, but Sirius felt ashamed to be near him, especially with the other boy so conflicted about only half the information. 

They filed through the double doors, Remus catching him by the elbow before he could slip away unnoticed. 

“I would never have told Pete.” Remus said softly, “You me that in confidence, I would never tell anyone. I promise.”

Sirius nodded, staring at the far double doors where James and Peter were waiting for them. “Okay.” He said quickly, “Thank you.” It was far more than Sirius deserved, considering who he had told about Remus.

“Sirius, I-“ Remus halted, and looked frustrated, but not at Sirius, “ Thank you for telling me. I’m sorry I didn’t react the best. I’m just, I’m working through some of my stuff.”

Sirius bit his lip. He wanted to ask, but it was not his place anymore. “I get it.” He said easily, disentangling himself from Remus’s grasp and heading towards James, “Don’t worry about it, mate.”

“Sirius, are you sure?”  Remus followed him and frowned when he didn’t answer, but they had reached the others by then, so he didn’t press it further. 

They separated for class, and when Sirius looked back, he found Remus still staring at him, wearing that tiny little frown.

“See,” James said pointedly, “I told you he looks at you.”

Sirius shoved his hands deep into his pockets and picked up the pace, and hurried down the stairs to the dungeon. “He was frowning at me.” Sirius said quietly, “That’s hardly a grand love confession, Prongs.”

James scoffed and kept up easily, “It wasn’t a frown. It was a Thinking Face. Completely different species. That was a boy trying not to look obvious about staring.”

Sirius didn’t answer. The stone walls felt colder down here, and the way his boots echoed off them felt too loud. He kept walking, gaze fixed ahead.

James caught up again, not giving up. “You’re being weird today.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.” James said, “You’re being all dark and twisted again, like May.”

Sirius stopped, “Because it feels like May.” He said, finally, “It feels like I’ve said the wrong thing again, and Moony hates me.”

“Sirius,” James said gently, “Moony would have no right to hate you about this.”

“He has every right. After everything I’ve done to him.”

 James opened his mouth, then shut it again, not sure what to say to that.

They reached the potions classroom, where students were already filtering in, the clatter of cauldrons and the smell of burnt something in the air. Sirius lingered in the doorway for a second, eyes downcast.

“Maybe I shouldn’t’ve said anything,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Maybe it was selfish.”

James touched his shoulder. “Mate-”

Sirius shook his head and slipped through the door, head down, jaw tight, as if he kept moving fast enough, none of it would catch him. He took his normal seat in the back and pulled out his notes, ignoring any of James's attempts to speak as he took his place beside Sirius. If Slughorn was surprised by the Marauders' diligence in his lesson, he didn’t mention it, for which Sirius was grateful.

He thought again of the library, of how he’d said it. It’s a bloke. It had felt brave in the moment, but now it just felt stupid. What had he thought would happen? That Remus would smile and say me too ? That he’d lean in, soft and sure, and kiss him right there in the bloody library.

Sirius scribbled a half-formed sentence onto the parchment. His stomach was in knots. His skin itched like he wanted to crawl out of it. 

It’s not even about him not liking me, Sirius told himself savagely. It’s worse. It’s the same as Snape, the same as my mother, the same bloody silence that means you’re wrong. You’re unnatural. You should have shut up.

The moment Slughorn dismissed them, Sirius was on his feet.

His cauldron hadn’t completely melted, but it had come close. The bottom was blackened, and the potion inside thick with the wrong consistency. Slughorn had just sighed, patted him on the back, and said, “Tough day, my boy?”

Sirius muttered something vaguely polite, gathered his things with mechanical precision, and made for the door. James kept up with him, and Sirius headed for the door, ignoring him. They bumped into the others coming back from Care of Magical Creatures. Remus opened his mouth as soon as he saw Sirius, and Sirius ducked his head. Scurrying away from him and the direction of the Gryffindor Tower.

“Oi,” James said behind him, “Moony, hang back a second.”

Sirius froze.

Remus turned, brows raised. “What?”

“Just, come here,” James said, already steering him toward the corner, lowering his voice like that would make the words invisible. Like Sirius hadn’t heard his name in James’s tone already. Sirius’s heart sank. His hand tightened around the strap of his bag. He didn’t need to stick around to hear what it was about.

“What’s that about, eh?” Peter says, catching up to him on the stairs. He was a little winded, and Sirius felt mean, so he slowed to match Peter’s pace.

“Not sure, Worms.” He lied, “Game of gobstones before dinner?”

Peter grinned, lovely and dependable, “Oh, go on then, but I’m not betting this time.”

Sirius nudged him, “Still not got your allowance back?”

“No!” Peter said, and he was laughing, “And mum says I might not ever, after what we did to poor Filch.”

“A,w c’mon.” Sirius smiled, feeling normal for once today, “You know he suited the pink curls.”

Peter laughed, “Oh, no doubt about it, it was a huge improvement for him.” He said the password to the Fat Lady, and together they went straight for the dorm. Peter dug his gobstones out from under his bed and slumped dramatically to the floor with a groan.

“Alright,” he said, raising his fists, “Prepare to be crushed.”

Sirius smirked. “You always say that. Last time you got sprayed in the face twice.”

“Purely a tactical distraction.” Peter said cockily, leaning back on his elbows, “I hope you’ve time for a shower before dinner.”

They played in easy silence, the click of Gobstones filling the room. Every once in a while, Peter would make a smug noise, and Sirius would mock him theatrically, throwing a cushion at his head. The burn in Sirius’s chest stayed, but seemed to diminish slightly. 

Peter waited until there was a lull between games before looking Sirius square in the eyes and saying, “Do you reckon it’s about you and Moony?”

Sirius nearly choked, “What about me and Moony?”

Peter waggled his eyebrows, “You know, that you’re-” He made a rude gesture that would’ve been insulting had Sirius not immediately laughed.

“Merlin Pete!” He said, “Where’d you learn that one?”

Peter kicked at him, “I’m cool, I’ve got other friends.” He said, “Those Hufflepuffs are wild, man.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, “Okay.” He said, “But for the record, there is no me and Moony.”

“Are you sure?” Peter said, his eyebrows knitted together like something wasn’t adding up, “He talks about you a lot. ”

“He does?”

“Eager bitch.” Peter laughed and ducked the pillow Sirius threw at him, “And yes, he does. Is that what this is all about?”

“No,” Sirius said quickly. He leaned back on his hands and stared at the window, the late-afternoon light pooling gold across the floorboards. “Not exactly.”

Peter didn’t say anything, just waited. For all his nervous energy and scattered thoughts, Peter was good at waiting. Good at letting someone get there on their own.

Sirius sighed and let his head drop back. “I told him it was a bloke. The person I like. Not even who it is, just… You know. That it’s a fella.”

Peter blinked. “Oh.” Then, after a beat: “And he didn’t take it well?”

Sirius let out a humourless laugh. “He didn’t take it at all . Just sort of… went quiet. Shut down. Like I’d said something wrong.” He twisted the hem of his sleeve between his fingers. “Didn’t look at me. Didn’t say anything really. And now James is off trying to talk him round or figure out what’s ‘wrong’ with him, and I’m up here trying not to lose my mind.”

Peter frowned. “You think he’s not okay with you being gay?” 

Sirius flinched; he’d barely described himself with that word, Peter seemed to use it so casually.“I don’t know. I mean, it feels like that. Like… I crossed a line. One I didn’t even know was there.” His voice cracked slightly, and he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to shake it off. 

Peter’s expression was softer than Sirius expected, more thoughtful. “I don’t think he’s mad at you, Pads. I mean - I don’t know what’s going on in his head, obviously, but he talks about you like you hung the bloody stars. I don’t think it’s that the blokes thing. I think maybe… he just didn’t know how to react.”

Sirius didn’t answer right away. He wanted to believe it, really wanted to. But the silence in the library, the look after lunch, the way Remus hadn’t said anything , surely it couldn’t be anything else.

Peter nudged the Gobstone between them with his thumb. “You know you can tell me stuff like this, right?”

Sirius gave him a tired smile. “I’m starting to realise that.”

“Right, c’mon.” Peter said, standing and patting his stomach, “I’m absolutely starvin’, should we head down to dinner?” Sirius nodded and stood.The walk to the Great Hall was quieter than usual. Peter rambled on, filling the silence with something easy. He’d written at least twenty letters at this point, hoping at least one would get him a match, but Sirius only half-listened. He felt like he was watching himself walk, like he wasn’t quite sitting inside his own body yet.

He knew Remus would be there, and he knew he and James had talked. Sirius did not want to witness the fruits of that conversation.

The doors to the Hall were open, and dinner had just begun. The long tables shimmered with candles and serving tureens filled with Sirius’ favourite lamb stew. Sirius spotted them immediately, sitting at their usual spot at the Gryffindor table, James waving a fork at them like a greeting. Remus looked up immediately and caught Sirius’ eyes. 

“Don’t panic, mate.” Peter said kindly, nudging him forward, “It’ll all be fine.”

They slid onto the bench across from the other two, and Sirius did everything he could not to look at Remus. His tray filled itself with food he had no interest in, and he tried to focus on pouring himself a glass of milk without spilling it.

He could feel the weight of Remus’ eyes on him. Sirius wanted to apologise for making a whole drama in the first place, and wished he’d never gotten drunk and told James anything all those months ago.

He didn’t want to look up, but he could feel Remus’ gaze, like he was trying to send an entire conversation across the table without a word. Sirius clenched his jaw and focused on cutting his potato into precise, pointless quarters.

“So,” James said loudly, slicing his roast beef with far more force than necessary, “Remus, did you think more about the pink sky for tomorrow?”

Remus blinked, clearly not expecting to be pulled in so directly. “Yeah,” he said, clearing his throat, “It’s a bit of a hodge-podge of different charms, but if we anchor it with a rotation spell, it should swirl in patterns. Should look nice from below.”

“Love a good swirl,” Peter offered, cheerful and a little too loud, clearly trying to grease the social wheels. “The Ravenclaws’ll lose their minds.”

James nodded quickly. “Exactly. We’ll probably need to do that one first to work out any of the kinks in it. What do you think, Pads?”

Sirius didn’t look up. “Sure.” 

“Cool,” James said, faltering slightly at the flatness of the response. “Okay, good.”

A long silence followed. Silverware clinked. A Hufflepuff a few seats down snorted milk through their nose, laughing at something, and the sound echoed across the hall like a spotlight on the Marauders’ discomfort.

Peter valiantly tried again. “What about the music enchantments? Do we still want to cycle through old Celestina Warbeck songs for each delivery, or are we aiming for something less… tragic?”

Sirius poked a bit of broccoli. “Tragic seems on theme.”

Peter shot him a quick look, then grinned like he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be concerned. “Fair.”

James glanced between Remus and Sirius and then nudged Remus under the table, subtly and with increasing desperation.

Remus straightened slightly. “Sirius,” he said, voice gentler than it had been in days, “do you still have the notes from McGonagall’s last lecture? I think I missed something about the transfigured charm matrices.”

“Yeah, I have them.” Sirius nodded and managed a quick, bland smile before going back to his dinner and keeping his mouth shut.

 His throat was thick with things he couldn’t say aloud. Jokes that might land wrong. Apologies that might make it worse. Feelings that felt like betrayal just for existing.

He didn’t want to be a problem.

And now, even after everything, Sirius hadn’t learned. He’d done it again, hadn’t he? Let his feelings get out of hand. Made it about him. Falling for Remus had always felt stupid, stupid but sort of beautiful, too. Until now. Now it just felt like another selfish thing, another breach of trust Remus hadn’t asked for and didn’t deserve.

He doesn’t want this, Sirius thought miserably. He didn’t ask for it. He didn’t ask for me.

So he stayed quiet.

He didn’t want Remus to feel uncomfortable. Or pressured. Or seen in a way he hadn’t agreed to. He didn’t want James to have to manage them. Didn’t want Peter to keep glancing between them like a referee at a match no one wanted to play.

“Here, lads.” Peter said, his voice very serious, “What do we do if Snape gets one?”

James snorted immediately, “Snape won’t get one. No one wants Snape.”

“Hey, you never know.” Peter sniggered, “Maybe short, dark, and greasy is somebody’s type. Say he does get one, what do we do?”

“Burn it?” Moony said, a little too casually,  with a slightly devilish glint in his eye.

James barked a laugh. “Remus! I thought you were supposed to be the moral compass of this group.”

“I am,” Remus said, grinning around his glass of pumpkin juice. “Which is why I’m saying it should be burned, I’m morally obligated to stop Snivellous from feeling joy.”

“Right,” Sirius said, unable to help but get involved. “We’ll write a note on it: Dear Severus, sorry, this is an act of public service. Love, the Marauders. ”

Peter gasped. “We should sign it! We could make it look like it’s from McGonagall! Dear Mr. Snape, Unfortunately, you are unloved by all. Also, you’re ugly. Sincerely, Minnie.”

James choked on his pumpkin juice. “She’d kill us!”

“She’d give us detention for a month ,” Remus said, fighting a smile.

“Okay, but,” Sirius said, leaning in now, energized by the energy that felt like them again, “what if it’s a real letter? Like, someone out there has a tragic little crush on Snivellus and writes a full-on poem. Rhyming couplets. Soppy metaphors. The whole lot.”

Peter clutched his heart. “ Ode to an Oily Prince .”

Remus lost it. “No, A Sonnet for a Slytherin .”

“I hate all of you,” James said affectionately.

Sirius laughed, properly laughed, doubling over as Remus tried to recite a mock sonnet in his best tragic narrator voice:

“Thine hair, a curtain of midnight slime,
Doth glisten like a cursed potion’s grime…”

Peter wheezed. James had tears in his eyes. Sirius was practically crying with laughter. Even Remus was cracking up mid-line, unable to keep the solemn tone/

Sirius leaned back against the bench, his cheeks aching, his chest feeling less like it was caving in. No one was looking at him funny. No one was treating him like glass. Remus was laughing again, with him, not stiff or careful or distant.

The silence was gone, broken not by some grand emotional revelation, but by something stupid and loud and very them. They were laughing again, like maybe things could go back to normal anyway.

Maybe that was the end of it; Sirius wouldn’t have to talk about it any further. He felt very relieved, if not slightly disappointed. He’d hoped for a different ending, but convinced himself it was better this way.

They finished up dinner, hastened by James who was itching to get upstairs and break into the letters. He headed straight for the Postbox, “Right then!” James bellowed. “Last call, lovebirds! If you’ve got a secret admirer to harass or a lifelong crush to anonymously pour your heart out to, now’s your chance!”

A few younger students squeaked and darted forward with blushing cheeks and folded parchment, shoving them into the glittering red box like it might vanish any second.

“Ten seconds!” James warned dramatically. “Nine! Eight! - You, Davies, I see you hesitating -grow a spine, man! Six! Five-”

“James,” Remus said flatly, “you’re scaring the first years”

“Good! Love should be terrifying!” James announced, hoisting the postbox up like a trophy. “Right. That’s it! If you’ve missed the deadline, blame your own cowardice. The box now belongs to us. ”

He turned on his heel and marched up the staircase, the postbox levitating in front of him. A trail of enchanted glitter floated behind it with every step.

Remus exchanged a look with Sirius, with a small smile tucked in it - and that was enough to make Sirius follow with only the smallest hitch in his chest.

Merlin.

He would never get over Remus, not if he was going to look at Sirius like that. Not if he was going to smile like he meant it , like everything hadn’t shifted beneath their feet, like he hadn’t gone cold and distant and then quietly wandered back into Sirius’s orbit without explanation.

Sirius had always been weak where Remus was concerned. Always. 

So this, the half-smiles, the stolen glances, the ghost of shared laughter over dinner, this was what Sirius would settle for. A few crumbs dropped from the table, the faint warmth of Remus’s voice when he wasn’t thinking about it.

He resigned himself to a life of it without fanfare. Sirius always knew love was a losing game, at least, for him.

Sirius followed them up to the dormitory like nothing was wrong, and let himself laugh at James being overdramatic and Peter doing impressions of Snape trying to write poetry. He nodded along as Remus talked about charms and enchantments for tomorrow.

Peter jogged ahead to open doors like James’s personal butler. “Don’t drop it,” he muttered. “If that thing bursts open early, we’ll have a full-scale emotional meltdown in the corridor.”

“Relax,” James said, puffing up as they neared the fat lady. “It’s got five security enchantments. I think. ” 

“Password?” she asked serenely.

“Valentine Carnage,” Peter grinned.

“Ugh,” she said, but swung open anyway. They clambered through and levitated the box right up the stairs. James let it drop onto the floor with a too-loud thunk, and he winced as it cracked, and letters spilled out onto the dormitory floor. Frankie Valli’s voice finally petered out to nothing.  

“Well,” Remus said helpfully, “At least we don’t need it anymore.” 

Sirius stepped over the pile of letter on the rug, and disappeared into the bathroom. He splashed water on his face, urging himself to get through the rest of the night normally.

When he returned, the others where in a semi circle on the floor, a stack of opened envelopes beside them. 

“We’ve delegated piles.” James said when Sirius joined them, sitting cross-legged on the floor. “That ones singing, that one’s quiet delivery, those are matches, and those ones are to be burnt.”

“Burnt?” Sirius said, wrinkling his nose, “Surely Snape’s not got that many.”

“More than you’d think.” Remus said idly, “But no, just some weirdos in Hogwarts.”

His long legs were pulled up to his chest, and he was sucking idly on a sugar quill. Sirius tried desperately not to look, but he had basically no choice. He tried to focus on the task at hand, but his eyes kept glancing back, lingering on the way Remus’s pretty pink mouth wrapped around it.

“All right,” James said, yanking open a pink envelope sealed with glittery wax, “this one’s going to Emmeline, so I vote we put it in the ‘sing’ pile unless it’s a disaster.”

He cleared his throat dramatically and read aloud:

“To my forbidden flame,
Your eyes burn brighter than my lumos
You set my heart aflame like a mid-level potion accident.
Let me be the frogspawn to your cauldron, stewing forever in your love.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Peter cackled so hard he knocked over a pile of envelopes.

Sirius let out a strangled noise. “That is simultaneously the most romantic and most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I vote we do sing that one,” Remus said, snorting. “To the tune of God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs. ”

“Too obvious,” Sirius said. “Needs to be more subtle. What’s that one Muggle song you like, Moony? The one with the sad bloke and the piano?”

Peter cackled in Remus’ direction, interrupting before he could open his mouth. “Which one? That’s all of them.”

“Next!” James shouted, opening another, red this time. “This one smells like cinnamon. That’s promising.”

“Dear you,
Your hands are like the library copies of Advanced Arithmancy: warm, well-worn, and overdue to be in mine.
If this is forward, I don’t care. I would fight every ghost in the castle to hold your hand in the corridor.
Please write back. Or wink. I’ll know.”

Remus let out a long, low whistle. “Honestly? That one’s sort of excellent.”

“Hot,” Peter agreed. “Put it in the ‘mysterious swoon’ pile.”

“We don’t have a ‘mysterious swoon’ pile,” James protested.

“We do now, ” Peter said, already scribbling the label and pasting it to a stack

After a few hours, James had declared himself Chief Letter-Opener and was now surrounded by a halo of parchment like a smug, slightly feral cupid. The Magical Love Postbox had been an unquestionable success, more so than they’d thought, and they still had another hundred at least to go through. 

“Another for our dear Mr. Black,” he sang, holding up a lilac envelope sealed with an actual lipstick print. “That’s the fifth one.”

“Seventh,” Peter corrected, holding up a tally sheet.

Sirius groaned and flopped backward onto the rug. “I told you we should’ve made this anonymous-only.”

James pushed his glasses up his nose and cleared his throat. His eyebrows rose into his forehead as he read aloud.

“Dear Sirius Black,
Green like grass
Violets are blue,
Your arse is class
And I want to fuck you.”

There was a moment of reverent silence.

“Oh my god,” Peter whispered, slightly scandalised. “That’s poetry. That’s just raw poetry. Singing pile, for definite.”

James cackled, and Sirius was helpless to do the same.

“Wait,” James said, eyes scanning a new letter. “Oh. Oh this one’s-yeah. This one’s from a bloke. ”

That caught everyone’s attention. Sirius sat up quickly, unsure if he should be braced or amused.

James held up the pale green envelope. “It says: You once hexed Mulciber for being a bigot. That’s when I knew. I think you’re brilliant. If you’re not interested, that’s fine, but I wanted you to know you made Hogwarts feel a little safer. ” James clutched to his chest, “Well, if that ain’t the cutest thing.”

“Adorable.” Peter said, “Here, give it to me, I’ll make sure it gets extra big confetti.”

James passed it forward, he’d already moved on, grinning as he picked up a shimmering heart-shaped one. “This one’s anonymous but literally just says ‘Sirius Black: Marry Me’ in red ink. That’s it. No punctuation. Just pure intent.” 

Peter snorted. “Sirius, you’re going to have to start a waiting list.”

“I am not qualified for this level of attention,” Sirius said, although he was grinning. It was nice to know he wasn’t the only one in the school like him. Maybe if he ever got over Remus, he would even seek whoever they were out.

Remus didn’t look up from the envelope he was opening. “You’ve got fans, mate. Nothing new.” He glanced at Sirius through his eyelashes, “You should do, you’re quite charming when you want to be.”

“Oh.” Sirius felt shot, “Do you think so?”

“Course.” Remus gave him a small smile and turned back to James, “Oi, is this yours for Lily?”

“No!” James said, aghast, “Mine is blue, it’s her favorite colour!”

“Lily Evans,
Your presence is... remarkable, though I doubt you notice.
I am not one for sentiment, but there is something about you that... unsettles me.
Perhaps you will not understand, or even want to, but know that you have caught the attention of someone who rarely notices anyone.”

Remus winced, “A bit creepy, isn’t it?”

“Definitely not singing worthy anyway.” Peter took it and lazily cast a charm, chucking it into the box of the completed ones. “Gave it minimal confetti too, next to no sparkles.”

“Atta boy, Pete,” James said, moving on.

Sirius kept his eyes peeled for the orange envelope from Remus, but he must have missed it when he was in the bathroom. Sirius sat back on his heels, staring at the swirling, glowing stack of Valentine chaos in front of him. Letters from hopeful strangers, funny ones, dramatic ones, and Merlin, so many for him. But none of them mattered.

Not without that one.

Remus had said it was nothing, just something sweet for a friend, but Sirius didn’t believe that for a second. There had been weight in Remus’s voice. A carefully placed distance.

Sirius ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. He hadn’t imagined it. He knew Remus had posted something. And he needed to know who it was for. Not even because of jealousy.

Just… because.

Because if Remus had been writing to someone, Sirius wanted to be able to brace for it. 

By half past one in the morning, the last letter had finally been read, sorted, or gently tucked away into the “absolutely do not deliver” pile.

Peter was nodding off in the corner, cradling a stack of love poems shaped like bad haikus. James had glitter in his hair and ink smudges across both cheeks, proudly declaring, “It’s time.”

“Time for what?” Sirius asked, still half-heartedly digging through the last box of envelopes.

James gestured dramatically. “Puddifootfication.”

Remus groaned. “Don’t say it like that.”

“I absolutely will,” James whispered, grabbing his wand and swinging his legs off the bed like a man with a mission. “Get your robes, lads. It’s makeover time.”

Ten minutes later, the four of them were creeping down the castle staircases under James’s invisibility cloak, dragging charmed crates full of pink gauze, enchanted candles, levitating tea sets, and what Peter solemnly referred to as “ambience powder.”

Sirius carried the box of fake floating cherubs. He hated them. They were too smug; they reminded him faintly of his younger brother.

The Great Hall was deserted and echoing when they slipped inside. James dropped the cloak and immediately spun in a circle.

“All right. Sirius, you’re on charm work for the walls. Moony, floating tables, and candles. Peter, you do the music and get those wretched cherubs to hover. I’ll sort the illusion enchantments for the windows. I want soft-focus hearts and sparkles, like a unicorn came in and shat rainbows all over the place.”

“Copy that,” Peter said, yawning.

They got to work in near-silence, wands flicking, eyes darting toward the doors now and then as if Filch might appear in a nightcap with Mrs. Norris floating beside him like a furry balloon.

Sirius traced careful runes along the perimeter walls, watching as the stone shifted to soft, rosy wallpaper with tiny dancing roses that blushed if you stayed at them too long. Beside him, Remus was charming a full tea set to hover perfectly above a table draped in pink velvet.

“You always did have a talent for girly magic,” Sirius said quietly, nodding to the lace trim on a floating doily.

Remus snorted. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

By the time they finished, the Great Hall had been transformed into something entirely unholy, lace curtains hung from floating chandeliers, gentle harp music played from nowhere, and little heart-shaped puffs of steam drifted out of every conjured teacup.

It was garish and ridiculous.

James stood in the center of it all with his hands on his hips, beaming. “We are bloody artists.”

Remus chuckled, and Sirius smiled before he could stop himself. For just a second, it felt easy again.

Peter was dead on his feet and rocked back dramatically, having fallen asleep on his own feet. "Alright, mate," James said, trying not to laugh. "No more ambience powder for you."

They made the slow crawl back to Gryffindor Tower like soldiers returning from battle, wand arms limp, hair full of glitter, the faint scent of conjured rose petals clinging to them all like the world’s strongest perfume.

Sirius brought up the rear, hands in his pockets, quietly watching the way Remus’s shoulder brushed James’s as they walked. There wasn’t jealousy, exactly, just a quiet wondering if Remus would ever be that familiar with him again.

By the time the Fat Lady swung open, Peter headed straight for the stairs, scrambling up them on his hands and knees.

"You lot go," Sirius said softly, hanging back. "I’ll blow out the fire." He was already dropping onto the rug in front of the hearth. He didn’t say why, but he needed a minute alone before getting into bed across from Remus.

Remus turned immediately, “I’ll stay with you,” He said, “Or else you’ll fall asleep on the sofa again.”

Sirius opened his mouth to argue, but James cut him off, “Yeah, good idea, Moons. Alright, fellas, goodnight.” He followed Peter up the stairs and left them alone. 

Sirius glanced back at him, one brow raised. “Thought you were wrecked.”

Remus shrugged, heading toward the nearest chair. “I am. Can’t sleep yet though.”

He sat down with that neat sort of quiet he always had, folding into the chair like he'd been stitched into it. His eyes were fixed on the flames, his hands tucked into his sleeves like he was trying not to fidget. For a while, neither of them said anything. The common room was still and low-lit, just the crackle of logs and the occasional murmur from the portraits half-asleep in their frames.

Sirius poked idly at the fire, achieving nothing really for it. There was probably a spell for it, but Sirius couldn’t remember it off the top of his head.

 “You know, James told me, right?” Remus said, breaking the silence.

Sirius didn’t look at him. “Told you what?” He said, terrified. 

Remus reached out and nudged him with his toe, “Please look at me?”

Sirius turned, obedient and humiliated.

“He told me, you thought I wasn’t okay with,” Remus waved his hand, his cheeks heating up slightly, “With you liking blokes.”

“Remus…”

“Sirius.” Remus interrupted gently, finally meeting his eyes. “I just need you to hear it from me. Whatever you are, whoever you like, it doesn’t change how I see you. It never would.”

Sirius opened his mouth, closed it. The air between them shifted, turning heavy heavy. Like something sacred had been placed on the table between them, and neither of them quite knew what to do with it.

“I thought-” Sirius began, voice rough. “It’s stupid, I know, but I thought if I told you, you’d react- like they did. My mum. Snape. Like it’s something dirty.”

Remus’s jaw tensed. His voice was calm when he replied, but Sirius heard the steel beneath it.

“You are not dirty, Sirius.” 

Sirius shrugged helplessly, and Remus slipped off the sofa and onto the rug beside him. “When did Snape say that to you?”

Sirius opened his mouth but couldn’t speak, just shook his head, and wrapped his arms around his knees. “Does it matter?”

“Yes. It does.” Remus said firmly, putting his hand on Sirius's knee and staring into his eyes, “Mate, does this have anything to do with May?”

Sirius nodded, unable not to answer a blatant question. He promised himself a long time ago that he would never lie to Remus again, not about what happened in May. “He caught me looking at someone,” Sirius said, flickering his eyes to see Remus’ reaction, “Didn’t say anything to me, not at the time. Just stared. Smiled, even. And I was stupid enough to think he’d let it go.”

Remus didn’t move. Just kept listening.

Sirius let out a small, bitter breath.

“I got the howler three days later. I knew immediately what it was. My mum’s voice was shouting things I hadn’t even said to myself yet. It was like she knew everything.” He went quiet for a moment, staring hard at the glowing embers.

“She said I brought shame on the family. That I’d infected the name. That I’d be lucky if anyone ever wanted anything to do with me again.”

Remus took a deep breath and squeezed Sirius's knee encouragingly.

“I think she was pleased, in her twisted way,” Sirius confessed. “Like she’d been waiting for the final excuse to get rid of me.”

“I should’ve said something. But I was terrified, Moony. Not of being disowned-  that part was honestly a relief - but of it being true . That no one would want me after that. That if anyone found out, they’d just…”

He didn’t finish. He didn’t have to.

Remus leaned a little closer, still gentle, still careful. “So you told Snape about me.”

Sirius nodded.

“I didn’t mean for it to go that far,” Sirius said quietly. “I swear, Moony. I wanted to scare him. I wanted to show him he wasn’t invincible, that he couldn’t walk around the school smirking at me like he held my whole life in his hands. But it was the wrong thing to do, I used you, and I’ll never do anything like it again in my life, I promise.”

Remus let out a sigh and pulled his hand away. Even in front of the dying fire, Sirius felt bereft without its warmth.

Sirius ducked his head, “You should hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

Sirius let out a shaky breath. “You should ,” he repeated,  quieter this time as if saying it again would convince Remus.

“I don’t.” Remus scooted closer and grabbed Sirius's hand in both of his. “I wish you’d told me a while ago, it would have helped me understand, but I could never hate you, Sirius.”

Sirius looked up, meeting those steady eyes, soft, patient, full of something like quiet strength. 

Remus smiled a little sadly and squeezed his hands together, “You’re my best mate,” he promised softly, “I could never hate you.” 

“I thought the,” Sirius started, and cleared his throat, “The gay thing.”

Remus grinned, the kind of teasing smile that made Sirius’s chest tighten all over again. “Honestly, I can’t believe you haven’t guessed. After all the times I’ve gone on about Freddie Mercury, you’d think the clues would’ve been obvious.”

Sirius blinked at him, utterly quiet for once, his mind scrambling. Freddie Mercury? Was James right?

“Wait,” Sirius said slowly, voice barely above a whisper, “So… you’re into blokes too?”

Remus chuckled softly. “Duh. I’m not exactly subtle about it.” He dug his elbow into Sirius’ side, “There you go, feel better? Maybe we’ll find that bloke that fancies you and start a club.”

Sirius laughed slightly, “A club?”

“Sure,” Remus said, “We’ll have lots in common.”

He grinned at Sirius, loose and familiar. “C’mere.” He said, holding his arms out, “I hate that you’ve been sitting on this all day.” 

Sirius moved closer and wrapped himself around the other man tightly. Remus laughed in the back of his throat and hooked his chin on top of Sirius’ hair. Being surrounded by Moony was overwhelming, the warmth of him through his robes, the faint scratch of his evening stubble, that still cloying scent of roses, sticking to them. Sirius wanted to never let go. 

Sirius knew Remus had written a letter to someone else, but maybe if he also liked blokes, and he didn’t fully despise Sirius, well, maybe Sirius might have a proper chance.

“Thanks, Moons,” Sirius murmured, pressing himself closer to the other man for just a second longer, before pulling away, his cheeks bright red.

“Anytime, Sirius,” Remus said, holding his gaze as long as possible, “I mean it.”

The fire had died, and with it the excuse to stay up died with it. They moved together toward the dormitory, their steps slower now, the night settling around them like a quiet promise. The others were already tucked in, the soft murmurs of sleep floating through the common room.

Remus bid him goodnight between their beds, pulling the curtains round him. Sirius grabbed his school bag before he slipped quietly onto his bed. Sirius followed Remus’ direction and pulled the curtains around him as well. He changed into his pyjamas and then climbed onto his bed, casting a quick Lumos and silencing spell.

 The world suddenly felt lighter around him,  charged with possibility. Sirius pulled out a piece of parchment and dipped his quill in ink, fingers trembling slightly.

If he likes blokes... and he doesn’t hate me... maybe there’s a chance. Maybe this is the moment to be brave.

His pen hovered over the page, then began to move, tracing words that had been tangled in his heart for too long. The night stretched on, the flicker of candlelight dancing as Sirius poured hope, fear, and quiet longing into the letter. Finally happy, he slid the letter into an envelope and tiptoed across the door, putting it into the sack with the others.

Dear Moony,

I’m not sure how to say this without sounding a bit of a mess, but I’ve been meaning to tell you something for a while now. I’m sorry if I’ve made things awkward between us. I never wanted that. You mean a lot more to me than I’ve ever been able to properly say.

I’m probably terrible at this, but I hope you’ll understand what I’m trying to get at. I’ve written pages and pages of stuff, and you can read them if you want.  But none of it says it better than this: I love you, Moony, and I have for so long. 

Yours,

Pads x

Sirius shifted beneath the covers, the adrenaline finally wearing off and leaving a jittery kind of exhaustion in its place. Part of him was buzzing; he’d written it . The thing he’d been dancing around for years was now real, inked and sealed, and sitting just out of reach. The other part of him, the louder part, was already second-guessing every line.

Was it too much? Not enough?

What if he laughs? What if he never even opens it? What if he opens it and doesn’t feel the same, and I have to look at him every day knowing that he knows?

But then he thought of Remus’s arms around him earlier. The warmth of his voice, the way he said, “Anytime, Sirius,” like he genuinely cared. And Sirius clung to that, because even if Moony didn’t reciprocate, he wouldn’t be mean about it; he wouldn’t let it change them.

Eventually, sleep found him, restless and shallow,  but he drifted off with one final thought anchoring him to hope:

At least now he’ll know.

*

“Oi! Up! Get up, get up, get up! ”

Sirius jerked awake, heart hammering as his bed curtains were wrenched open and a shaft of cold morning air hit his face. James was standing over him, hair everywhere, eyes wild with excitement, already fully dressed, backwards jumper and all.

“Prongs, what-” Sirius croaked.

“It’s time! It’s bloody time, Pads! Letters are going out today! ” James tossed a balled-up sock at Remus’s bed, who groaned and rolled over like the world had ended. “Come on, come on! Worms and I have already delivered the letters to the owlery. The post  starts delivering at breakfast,  I want to see the chaos unfold in real time.”

Remus sat up groggily, blinking. His hair was sticking up on one side, and his voice was still raspy with sleep. “You’re acting like it’s Christmas.” He looked bloody gorgeous, and Sirius was slightly awestruck.

James grinned, manic. “It is Christmas. But with more romance.”

Sirius rubbed his face with both hands, pulse now thudding for entirely different reasons. The letter. His letter. Somewhere in that postbox was the most honest thing he’d ever written. And Remus was about to get it.

“Come on ,” James shouted again, already halfway down the stairs. “The people need their love!”

Remus met Sirius’s gaze and rolled his eyes at James’ antics. He swung his legs off the bed and padded towards the bathroom, the door swinging shut behind him.

Sirius pulled a jumper over his head, hands fumbling as he tried to push his arms through the right holes. His hair was a mess, his heart was worse, and the air suddenly felt too thin in the dormitory.

He’s going to read it today. Today, Remus is going to know.

He shoved his feet into his boots without socks, not trusting himself to bend over without either vomiting or spontaneously combusting. James’s voice was still echoing from below, yelling something about “love riots” and “bets on who gets the weirdest one.”

Sirius turned, just in time to see Remus tying his shoelaces with those maddeningly calm fingers, his expression unreadable. “Did you end up writing one to that bloke?” He asked.

Sirius bit his lip, but nodded. “Yeah, finished it last night.”

Remus smiled, “Good, I’m happy for you, Sirius.” He stood, dressed, and grinned at Sirius, “Alright then, you ready?”

No. Not even slightly.

“Sure,” Sirius said, his voice higher than normal. “Let’s... yeah.”

They stepped out into the corridor, the cold castle air biting at Sirius’s cheeks. James and Peter were waiting at the top of the stairs, bouncing on the balls of their feet like children on the way to Honeydukes.

“Thought you lot had died,” James said. “Come on, come on- I want front-row seats when Snape gets a howler full of sonnets.”

Sirius forced a laugh, walking alongside Remus down the corridor, every footstep too loud, every glance from Remus too much and not enough. He kept replaying the letter in his head, every word, every damn vulnerable syllable. I love you, Moony. He never should’ve posted it, what was he thinking-

“Pads?” Remus asked gently.

Sirius blinked. “Yeah?”

“You alright?”

He nodded too fast. “Fine. Great. Just eager to see if I’ve been publicly humiliated yet.”

Remus huffed a soft laugh. “You’ll be fine,” he knocked into slightly, “Any fella would be stupid to say no to you.”

“Really?” Sirius said, hope dawning in his chest.

“Absolutely,” Remus said with a thin look. Sirius wanted to question him further, but they had arrived at the Great Hall, and James turned around with his arms outspread.

“Lads, get ready,” He said solemnly, flinging the stone doors open, “For Madame Paddifoots!”

Sirius had seen it all last night, but the moment they stepped through the doors, even he faltered. “Oh, bloody hell, ” he breathed, eyes going wide.

The Great Hall had been completely transformed. Gone were the long house tables and flickering torches. In their place stood clusters of delicate, lace-draped tables, each glowing softly under floating rose-gold lanterns shaped like hearts. Pink and red petals drifted lazily through the air, enchanted never to fall or make a mess. The ceiling reflected a soft pink swirling twilight, with silver stars twinkling like they had been polished overnight. The Ravenclaws were indeed losing their minds about it. 

Remus nodded as the window shot open, and the sound of beating wings filled the air, “Just in time.”

Sirius’s eyes shot upward as the sky above the Great Hall filled with wings and parchment. The school’s owlery had been recruited, it seemed, and they were all soaring dramatically through the lantern-light, each one carrying brightly coloured envelopes in their beaks or tied to their legs.

“Oh, shit, ” James said, clearly delighted. “We really went too far.” He hurried them to their seats, eager to watch properly.

The first letter dropped neatly into a stunned Hufflepuff girl’s tea. A soft splosh , a gasp, and then the owl hooted proudly and zoomed away. Laughter bubbled up from her table as she plucked it out, already blushing.

Around them, letters were dropping at a rapid rate, smashing teacups and crockery with the landing, heavier than normal with magic. Hundreds of owls swirled in the air, unhappily hooting as they passed. 

“Christ,” Remus said, ducking to avoid falling ceramic, “Maybe we should’ve staggered it, lads.”

A second-year student was frantically trying to catch a pink envelope that kept levitating just out of reach. One Slytherin girl got hit in the face with a gold one and announced proudly, “That means it’s expensive love! ” while her friends rolled their eyes.

James was howling. “This is the best thing we’ve ever done!”

Sirius wasn’t laughing. He had two letters in his lap from people he didn’t recognise -one with aggressive perfume, the other with far too many heart doodles. Neither was orange. He scanned the table again.

Nothing.

“Anything?” Remus asked him suddenly, voice casual, eyes unreadable.

Sirius forced a smile. “No. Just some fanmail.”

The first letter began singing, in the hands of a furiously blushing fifth-year Ravenclaw.

“Thy freckles doth shine like stars in the night,

 My heart leaps at every single sight,”

Others began as well, until there was a multiple shouting over each other. Confetti started bursting in the air as people scrambled to open them. They had stamped MATCH across those who had written to each other, and more than a few were shyly making their way towards each other. 

“Oh Merlin,” Peter whimpered, “Oh no,” He had more than a few letters gathering in his lap.

“What’s wrong?” James said, clapping him on the shoulder, “Didn’t expect to be so popular?”

“No, they’re just,” Peter winced, “They’re all matches. I don’t know who’s who.”

Remus sniggered, “That’s what you get for playing the field.”

Amid the raucous swirl of singing sonnets, flying pastries, and James dramatically re-enacting a serenade he hadn’t even received, Sirius almost didn’t notice the lone owl that cut silently through the air.

It wasn’t like the others, no flair of feathers or confetti. Just a steady glide, wings outstretched, carrying one single envelope clutched carefully in its beak and heading in Remus’ direction. 

Moony had a couple of envelopes in front of him, and seemed oddly amused by it all, a small smile on his lovely mouth. The owl circled once, then swooped low and dropped the letter neatly beside Remus’ teacup.

Just a soft thud of parchment, making the crockery rattle..

Remus looked down at it, then up at the owl, his brow furrowed slightly. It didn’t hoot or wait for praise, just banked and glided back up into the enchanted sky. Remus lifted it gently and turned it over in his hand. Others had chosen expensive stationery and written in their best handwriting, but Sirius had torn a page from his notebook and scrawled it so quickly the ink had smudged.

Remus dipped his thumb under the seal of the envelope, sliding across and exposing everything.

Sirius could barely breathe.

Carefully, without ceremony, Remus unfolded the parchment like it might break under his fingers. His eyes scanned it once, and then again.

And then his expression changed.

His lips parted. Eyebrows arched just slightly. His face shifted into something unreadable. Remus stopped reading, his fingers tightening on the edge of the page, just barely. His expression didn’t morph into a grin or a scowl; it just froze.

Sirius searched for something, anything, a spark of fondness, a hint of humour, even confusion would’ve been better than that unreadable stillness. But Remus didn’t look up.

He didn’t look at him.

And Sirius felt the floor shift under him. Remus looked up at him finally, his eyes wide and round. His mouth was slightly parted, as if Sirius had pulled the rug out from under him.

Across the table, Peter chose that exact moment to become the universe’s most reliable distraction.

“Peter Pettigrew!”

Three girls descended upon him with near-identical furious expressions, wielding different coloured letters like evidence in a criminal trial. 

Peter squeaked, dropping his toast. “Oh no, I can explain-!”

“You wrote all of us the same poem!” one of them cried, brandishing a violet envelope.

“I-what?! I didn’t-!”

“You rhymed ‘kiss’ with ‘bliss’ three times! ” another girl shouted. “Who even does that?”

James doubled over, clutching his stomach. “Pete, c’mon, you didn’t-”

Remus turned his head briefly to look at the scene, the letter still loose in his hand.

That was all the opening Sirius needed.

He stood abruptly, so fast his chair nearly toppled. Remus' head snapped back to him, but Sirius wasn’t looking, his eyes still stuck on the letter in Remus’ hand.

He bolted.

He shoved open the Great Hall doors, and once through them, he broke into a run. Sirius tore down the corridor like the floor might open under him if he didn’t keep moving.

 His heart was hammering in his chest, breath coming fast, a fine buzzing under his skin making everything feel too much . Too bright, too loud, too raw.

Stupid, you’re so bloody stupid.

He ducked left behind the suit of armour on the fourth floor,  the back panel swung open with a grunt of protest, and he shoved through it into the narrow shortcut between corridors. His shoulders brushed the stone walls on both sides, the scent of dust and disuse pressing in close.

Every turn he made, every hidden passage, was muscle memory by now, all the hours spent avoiding Slytherins, Filch, memories of home. He moved on instinct, his feet finding stairwells and loose floorboards, anything that would cut time.

Sirius just needed to be away , from the hall, from the noise, from Remus ’s stunned expression.

He hit the final staircase, two steps at a time, fingers skimming the railing.

Fifth floor. Sixth. The landing creaked under his weight as he slipped into the corridor that led straight to Gryffindor Tower. He mumbled the password before the Fat Lady could even blink, and clambered through while she was still opening, making her squeal at him.

The common room was blissfully empty. Sirius looked at the spot where he and Moony had spoken last night, and dragged himself up the stairs to the dormitory. Finally, he stepped through the doorway, and the silence hit him. Sirius let out a slow, shaking breath and sank onto his bed without thinking, gripping the edge of the mattress like it would anchor him.

Sirius heard the sound of feet on the stairs and winced. The dormitory door flung open, banging off the bedroom wall. 

Moony braced himself on the doorframe, panting.  “ Fuck, you’re fast,” curls damp with sweat and his tie askew. He looked flushed, wild-eyed, like he’d run the entire castle to catch him. It was an obscene look on him, and Sirius averted his eyes, now that he knew he’d be caught staring. 

“Moony-”

“You-” Remus gasped, still panting, “-fucking dick. You can’t just drop that on me and then run. ”

Sirius stared at him, silent, heart thrashing wildly. “I thought-” he started, but it came out barely a whisper.

“I know what you thought.” Remus straightened, taking two steps into the room. “You thought I hated it.” He strode over to the way Sirius was sitting on the bed, and reached into his pocket, pulling out a familiar orange envelope and holding it out to Sirius.

“Go on,” Remus said, shaking it slightly with a nervous grin, “It’s for you anyway.”

Sirius’s eyebrows knit together, but he reached out to take it from Remus anyway.

“Pinched it yesterday while you were in the bathroom.” Remus sat down on the bed beside him, scratching the back of his head, “I thought there was no point in sending it anymore.”

Sirius stared at the envelope, the weight of it heavier than he expected. His fingers trembled slightly as he peeled back the seal, unfolding the orange paper inside. The handwriting was unmistakably Remus’s, neat and careful, with just the right slant.

‘Pads,

I’m being brave, I’ve goaded you and James into doing this prank because I need to be brave. I need to tell you I love you.

Your laughter, your reckless heart, your stubborn loyalty, I love every part of you.

I think about you more than I’m willing to admit. When I’m scared or alone, it’s your voice I hear. When I’m tired, it’s your smile I imagine. 

Forever ‘Your’ Moony’

Sirius read it about three different times before he understood any of the words on the paper. A grin spread across his face before he could help it. “And you said it wasn’t a love letter.”

Remus elbowed him, “I was doing damage control. I thought you fancied someone else, I was trying to be supportive!”

Sirius laughed, “That was your idea of supportive?”

“Well, obviously, I hated the idea!” Remus said, grinning back at him, “But I wanted to be a good mate, even if it killed me.”

Sirius shook his head, “So you were jealous?” He asked, a sly smile spreading across his face. 

Remus nodded, blushing slightly, “Very,” He said, shuffling slightly closer to Sirius on the bed, his hand gently cupping Sirius's face, “I’ve never wanted anyone else to have you.”

Sirius didn’t breathe. He couldn’t.

Remus’s thumb brushed just beneath his cheekbone, warm and a little hesitant, and Sirius thought his heart might actually give out from the sheer weight of it all,  from the hand on his face, from the blush on Remus’s cheeks, from the words still ringing in his ears. 

I’ve never wanted anyone else to have you.

They were close now, close enough that Sirius could feel the whisper of Remus’s breath on his skin, could see every freckle, every line of his mouth, and fuck , he wanted it.

“Moony,” he said, barely more than a breath.

Remus didn’t hesitate.

He leaned in and kissed him. Sirius kissed back before he’d even realised what had happened.

Their mouths met gently, a cautious press of lips that made Sirius feel like his entire body had gone very still and very loud all at once. It was soft and uncertain and perfect.

 Sirius gasped against his mouth, and Remus took the opportunity to deepen it just slightly, one hand slipping into Sirius’s hair, the other still anchoring him by the jaw. Sirius melted into it, mouth parting easily, one hand fisting in Remus’s robes to pull him even closer. He kissed back greedily, one hand sliding up to the back of Remus’s neck to burrow in his hair, the other gripping the edge of the bed to keep from floating clean off it.

Remus curled his hand into the front of Sirius’s jumper, pulling him in with a tug that was more plea than command. Sirius toppled forward onto him, and Remus pulled him back down to meet his lips. 

It wasn’t slow or sweet. It was all heat and teeth and urgency, a clumsy crash of mouths that had waited far too long. Remus made a soft, pleased sound in the back of his throat and dragged Sirius closer by the front of his shirt, until their chests were pressed flush together and Sirius could feel the thrum of Remus’s heart against his own.

Sirius deepened the kiss, one hand sliding up Remus’ flat chest, the other cradling his jaw like he wanted to memorize the angle of it. Remus wound his fingers into Sirius’s hair, pulling away from his face and chasing Sirius’s mouth like he couldn’t bear the space between them.

Remus’s hands slid up under Sirius’s shirt, fingertips tracing over warm skin, and Sirius shivered, biting back a groan.

The kiss deepened, turning messier by the second, all open mouths and quiet sounds and the slight, thrilling drag of Sirius’s hips against Remus’s. The bedsprings creaked beneath them. Sirius could feel Remus’s heartbeat through the press of their chests, and Merlin, he wanted to drown in him.

“You’re driving me mad,” Sirius whispered, lips brushing over Remus’s jaw, down to the line of his throat.

“You’re one to talk,” Remus muttered, tugging him back up for another kiss.

Sirius laughed against his mouth, breathless and dizzy.

And then.

The door slammed open.

“Oi, have either of you-OH MY GOD .” James blinked and said, far too loudly, “Well, I was just coming to see how it went, but I see it was very successful.”

Sirius groaned and dropped his forehead against Remus’s shoulder. “Tell me it’s not happening.”

Remus snorted, breathless and flushed. “Hi, James.”

James gave a thumbs up, backing out slowly. “Carry on, lads. Don’t let me ruin the mood.” The door banged shut behind him. Sirius didn’t move from where he was straddling Remus’ waist, his head burrowed in his neck. 

Remus’s hands slid up his thighs to his waist, and Sirius pulled back, raising an eyebrow. 

“What?” Remus said, with a guilty smile on his face, “He said to carry on, didn’t he?”

Sirius grinned back, “That he did.” He said, allowing himself to be tugged back down.