Chapter Text
It was quiet, his corner office. Peaceful, almost. Teaching a bunch of secondary schoolers meant that any type of respite, even the smallest, was welcome.
Remus sighed, and leaned back in his chair. There was a half full coffee mug on his desk, still warm, along with two potted plants; one on the desk, one on the window sill. He took a sip, grateful for the fact that Molly, bless her soul, knew exactly how he took his coffee. Black, with one sugar. Always had been since he’d first started drinking it; one cup at breakfast, one at break, and one in the afternoon.
He wasn’t due to teach for another two hours, thank God, since his GCSE class had gone on some trip for the day, which meant more time for coffee and naps. He’d taken to bringing his plaid blanket with him to school, because recurring nightmares did not equal a good night’s sleep. Still, it was pretty unprofessional, and if McGonagall caught him, he’d be in the doghouse for certain. Dumbledore, he was pretty sure, wouldn’t mind, in fact he’d probably join him, since the man was at least seventy, no matter what people tried to tell him about ‘retirement age’.
Today, though, he just couldn’t sleep, and maybe it had something to do with the extra cup of coffee he’d had at break because of his total lack of sleep last night, or maybe it had something to do with the man who had just appeared in his office.
And damn, was he willing to give up nap time for this.
The guy that walked in had long, black hair, which he’d shoved up into a messy bun, and light grey eyes that honest-to-god once-overed Remus, as if he was someone who regularly got checked out. His mouth pulled up into an easy grin, and he sauntered - yes, sauntered - over and held out his hand. “Hey. I’m Sirius Black, new drama teacher.”
Remus looked from his hand up to Sirius’ face, slightly overwhelmed. “Uh, Remus. Remus Lupin. English.”
Sirius grinned wider. “English, eh? Guess we’ll be seeing more of each other, then. Y’know, because our subjects are very much interlinked.”
Wait, wait. Was this very attractive, very confident man flirting with him?
He must have been asleep. There was no other explanation for this. “Sure, I guess. If you don’t mind me asking, what are you doing in my office?”
Sirius glanced around the room and shrugged. “Apparently the school’s short on offices, so the old Scottish lady said I could share with you. Charming lady, that McGee, really.”
Remus almost choked on his coffee. “McGonagall? Charming? Are you sure you weren’t talking to someone else?” He had the utmost respect for the woman, really, but she certainly wasn’t someone who he would call charming. That label would most definitely go to this man, even though he’d only been talking to him for five minutes.
“Oh sure, once you get past the thirty-six layers of grouchy old-woman-ness and the odd cat smell, she’s quite the sweetheart.” Sirius was grinning again, slightly mockingly now, so Remus risked a small grin of his own back. “So, d’you mind if I set up my crap?”
“Of course, I’ll just move the stuff by the window.” He swiftly got up and pushed the small bookcase and lamp over to beside his desk, giving Sirius the other window to set his stuff up by. Whilst Sirius had his back turned, Remus quickly pinched himself. Judging by the throbbing pain on his wrist, this was not a dream.
Perfect. He was going to have to share a rather small office with a very attractive man for a year. He wondered if this was the universe’s way of playing a practical joke on him.
As far as he could tell, Sirius wasn’t exactly one for conformity or pop culture, given the titles of the albums he set next to the small stereo he’d brought in.
Remus glanced over and raised an eyebrow. “Really? Thin Lizzie?”
Sirius turned and smiled sheepishly. “Hey, all I grew up listening to was classical music. I only got to branch out when I turned sixteen, which was about ten years ago now.”
Oh, so he was the same age, was he? Thanks, universe. “Besides,” Sirius added, “you’re one to talk.”
“What?”
Now Sirius raised an eyebrow. “You have a record player for God’s sake. Tell me that doesn’t scream ‘hipster as fuck’.”
Remus rubbed the back of his neck. “I like it…”
His new colleague burst out laughing. “I’m only pulling your leg, I like vinyl too. Couldn’t exactly bring mine on the Tube, though, could I?”
That didn’t seem to have stopped him from bringing in three huge bags of stuff, however. Aside from the old as shit stereo and CDs (although was he really one to talk, given that he had a record player from the seventies), he had brought a giant pinboard - “I get stressed if I don’t have at least something organised in my office” - which already had a schedule, a picture of a large, shaggy-haired dog panting at the camera, and several post-it notes tacked to it, a pile of both fiction and text books, mostly sci-fi, if Remus was reading the titles right. Also pulled from the depths of the bag was a tangle of wires that did god-knew-what, several pencil cases, two ‘campfire’ scented candles, and a small, blue desk lamp.
In a smaller, fabric bag, he had a few cacti, a framed photo (He couldn’t see who it was of, but the subject seemed to have dark hair, similar to Sirius’), a leather-bound journal, a pair of glasses that Remus almost hyperventilated over - because honestly, carrying very-scratchable items unprotected next to fucking cacti was never a good idea - and a tiny black stuffed dog, which he set in pride of place right next to his computer.
“Aaaahh,” he sighed, stretching his hands above his head, and dear god Remus needed to keep his eyes off his stomach from now on, otherwise things were going to get very awkward very fast, “I feel better now I’ve marked my territory.” He slumped down in the chair and shut his eyes. “Thank God I don’t have to teach for a couple of hours. I don’t think I can deal with any more annoying questions today.”
Remus looked over at him, eyebrows raised. “Oh yeah? Like what?”
Sirius turned his head and grinned, and suddenly he wasn’t there anymore, and in his place sat a cocky, irritating fourteen-year-old. “Sir, what does monologue mean? Yeah, but sir, you can’t talk to the audience, that’s like, really weird.”
Remus laughed, and joined in. “How do you spell adverb, sir? Are you sure it’s not double b, sir?”
Sirius fell about laughing, and Remus smiled.
They spent the rest of the morning like that, with Remus sharing biscuits out of his treasured porcelain jar, and Sirius sharing stories about the places he’d been and the people he’d met. He could see why he’d chosen to be a Drama teacher; he had a certain flair, and he was overdramatic, and incredibly charming, which could only be a recipe for absolute chaos, but somehow, he made it work.
All too quickly, it came to eleven o’clock, and they both had to go and actually do their jobs. Before walking out, Sirius turned back and winked at him. “I expect I’ll be seeing you at lunch, then?”
Remus usually ate in his office; sometimes James or Peter would drag him out and they’d go to a café somewhere, but he felt like he could make an exception for Sirius. “Sure. But we are not going to the canteen; I’ll show you a place down the street - the bagels are so good.”
Sirius grinned. “It’s a date.”