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Sirius sighs as he props his chin in his hand, gazing down the length of the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, his stomach swooping when a pair of brilliant blue eyes meet his with a little smile before darting away again.
James, beside him, sighs in a way that sounds less lovelorn and more exasperated. “Pads, quit staring at Remus, you’re drooling all over your essay for Charms.”
His eyes drop to the table, where sure enough there are little droplets of spit all over his essay smearing the ink, and Sirius makes a disgusting sort of slurping sound as he tries to swallow the excess of saliva in his mouth, scrubbing his chin with his sleeve. “Sorry, mate, I can’t help it. Have you looked at Moony lately?”
“Considering that we live in the same dormitory, have shared the same classes with him for seven years, and live in a relatively small castle, yes,” James grumbles, shoving his glasses up his nose as he glances over at Sirius with a skeptical expression, eyes flicking towards Remus. “He looks the same he has since literally the moment we met him.”
Sirius doesn’t bother arguing with him because he’s learned that the conversation will just go around in circles—with him insisting that Remus seems different and James arguing that he absolutely does not—quickly drying off his essay and tucking it into his bag, out of harm’s (and drool’s) way, letting his eyes drift back to where Remus is helping some of the younger students with their homework. He’s such a good person, always offering tutoring help and reading over people’s essays for them, sometimes at his own expense when he falls behind because of the moon.
There’s just something different about Remus lately, and Sirius can’t quite put his finger on what, but it’s driving him absolutely insane. He’d first noticed the change when they returned to Hogwarts for seventh year, brushing it off when Remus acted the same, but then they’d returned from Easter holiday and Remus’ appearance had hit him with the force of a bludger to the chest.
His eyes seemed bluer. His hair shinier, gleaming golden beneath the candle light, the soft curls somehow straddling the line between cherub and incubus. He seemed taller, even though he wasn’t, legs going on for miles despite the fact that the top of his head was still at eye level for Sirius. Even his voice was deeper, with an undertone of grit that makes Sirius’ insides feel like they’re melting, each word dragging over his senses like silk.
“Isn’t it odd that Remus’ eyes are blue?” he asks as casually as he can, scratching idly at his neck, watching the light glint off Remus’ eyes and mentally comparing them to one of Walburga’s sapphire necklaces. He thinks that Remus’ are more of a cobalt, navy blue, or maybe even closer to indigo. “It’s just, with his skin tone and coloring, doesn’t he seem like he’d have brown eyes? Hazel, maybe, but blue is-”
“I can’t have this conversation again,” James says tiredly, rising from the table and collecting his books, calling over his shoulder as he walks away, “I’m going to go do rounds.”
Sirius shakes his head, not bothering to point out that James isn’t scheduled for head boy duties or rounds tonight, leaning his head against his fist as he stares at Remus. There’s just something so… alluring about him now. He’s certain that something has changed about him, fundamentally, and Sirius is going to get to the bottom of it, one way or another.
When Remus eventually leaves for his own prefect rounds Sirius lets out a little forlorn sigh, collects his things, and does something that he swore to himself he’d never do.
He heads to the library on a Friday night.
Sirius’ theory about Remus’ sudden change, and the way that he all but captivates him with every breath, is that it has something to do with his Lycanthropy.
Unfortunately for him, every single book that Hogwarts has is the sort of drivel that he’d rather wipe his arse with than read, going on and on about how werewolves are savages and brutes that will murder your children in their bed. And while he knows of a single werewolf that mindset applies to, who definitely isn’t Remus, he lacks any other options for a moment, grumbling as he carries them to the circulation desk. Madam Pince glowers at him suspiciously as she checks the books out—a treatment that he’s earned yet bristles at nonetheless—finally allowing him to take the books, albeit reluctantly, staring at him as he collects them into his arms and swaggers from the library.
Their dorm is empty when he arrives, and Sirius dumps the books on his bed—not treating them with care, like he was instructed—before stripping out of his tie and uniform shirt, genuinely unsure of where his robes are but certain that they’ll turn up eventually. When he’s down to his pants he flops down on his bed, shoving some random detritus to the floor as he makes himself comfortable, picking up a book at random flipping through to the werewolf section, already feeling bored as he starts to read.
He’s made it through three of them, each one worse than the last, by the time Pete returns from Gobstones Club, giving him a scathing look as he peers over the top of the book. “Wormy, mate, why in the fuck do you smell like a manticore’s arsehole?”
“Get up close and personal with a lot of those, do you, Pads?” Pete snarks back, flipping a two-fingered salute, using his sleeve to wipe his face. “I lost the match, and I’m not sure what Davey has done to his set, but I’m sure it’s not up to regulation.”
“And you couldn’t cast a cheeky scourgify on yourself before wandering about the halls smelling like you spent the night on the floor of the owlery?”
Pete pauses halfway through rummaging through his trunk, cursing beneath his breath as he pulls his wand out and casts a cleaning charm on himself, as well as a freshening charm on the air, smelling much better as he wanders closer and lets out a little whistle at the sight of all the books spread across his bed. “Studying for your N.E.W.T.S?”
Sirius lets out a bark of laughter, shaking his head. “Fat chance of that. No, just a little research, for personal reasons.”
Pete presses his lips together, lifting the copy of Lawson’s Loathsome Lycanthropes; and Other Odious Oddities, chuckling when Sirius snatches it from his hands. “You mean Moony research. I’m telling you, Pads, there’s nothing different about him this year. He’s the same ol’ Remus that he’s always been.”
“Has your fly been down all day?” he asks cooly, Pete making a little ‘yeah right’ expression before his gaze drops, hastily doing up the fastenings of his trousers. “No offense, Petey, but I don’t exactly trust your observational abilities.”
Pete grumbles as he heads back to his own bed, collecting his dressing gown and shower caddy, and Sirius rolls his eyes as he drops the book next to him. It flops open to a random page when it hits the bed, spitting out a little cloud of dust that makes him sneeze, and he moves to close it again when his eyes catch on the words scrawled across the top of the page. He freezes, breath caught in his throat, tossing the book he was reading aside so that he can take a closer look, hands trembling as he picks it up.
The Voluptuous, Venerable, Vicious Veela the header reads—which, Sirius isn’t sure which pompous arsehole wrote this book, but not everything needs to be alliterative—but he feels his brows creeping up as his eyes dart across the page, righteousness flaring to life in his chest. The signs are all there; seductive personality, effortless wiles, inhuman beauty, and sure, Remus may be a bloke, but it’s not out of the question that perhaps he has some less than human lineage somewhere along the line, Sirius himself has a great-great-something that was part centaur. The more he reads, focusing on the paragraph about the reproductive cycle, the more sure he becomes.
Remus is coming into a Veela inheritance.
It’s the only thing that makes sense.
He checks the clock, plenty of time before Remus returns from his prefect rounds, summoning a quill and a scroll of parchment so that he can take notes, intent on finding out everything he can about Veela in the next forty two minutes.
“You’re off your bloody rocker,” James hisses, staring gobsmacked on the thick sheaf of evidence that Sirius has presented him with, shoving the Snitch that he was playing with into his pocket as he looks towards where Remus is lounging in the grass a few yards away, nose buried in a book. “You think that Remus is a Veela? No fucking way.”
“It’s the only thing that makes sense,” he whispers, getting distracted for a moment as Remus rolls over onto his stomach, mouth falling open as he gracefully bends his legs at the knees, ankles hooking together. “Look at him! He’s bloody gorgeous! Too gorgeous, it’s surely a sign. Next thing we know he’ll be spouting feathers.”
James opens his mouth and shuts it again, making an expression like he’s either confused or constipated, blinking harshly as he turns towards Remus. “Sorry, hang on. Remus Lupin, our best friend and roommate, is gorgeous? Since when? Which parts of him?”
“You need to visit Madam Pomfrey because your glasses must not be working anymore. Just- Look. All that golden, glowing skin. The way his freckles are perfectly scattered across his nose and cheeks. His eyes. His eyelashes, especially. Lithe limbs, long legs, objectively he’s a very beautiful person, you can’t deny it.”
“You sound like a poof,” Pete says, crunching into his apple as he leans on the tree behind them, grunting when James drives his fist into his stomach without even looking back at him. “Oi, what was that for?!”
“You know what it was for,” James grumbles darkly, giving Pete an acidic look, running a hand through his hair as he refocuses on Remus with a sigh. “Pads, logically your theory makes no sense. Remus is half-blood. His mum is muggle, the Lupin line has been recorded for generations, and even then Veela are native to the Balkans. Lyall is Welsh and Hope’s family are from Morocco. There’s not exactly a lot of Veela in those parts.”
Sirius pouts for a second, because James has a point, until something occurs to him. “Yeah, but there’s a shit ton of the fuckers in France! I bet Remus has French ancestors, he speaks it so beautifully, so it makes sense that the gene pool could have been splashed around a bit there.”
James gives him a pitying look, lips pressed together, sighing through his nose as he turns towards Remus. “Hey, Moony! Say something in a bit of French for us!”
“What? Why? What are you three up to?” Remus asks as he folds himself up onto his knees in a very nymph-like manner, turning to squint at them. “Last time I tried, Padfoot told me I sounded like a niffler that was choking on a spoon.”
“I would never say such a thing,” he gasps, outraged, pressing a hand against his chest before giving Remus his best puppy dog expression. “Please? Just a little bit? For me?”
Remus scowls at him, snapping his book shut, grumbling something before he looks at him with those big blue eyes and murmurs, like a siren, “BON-jour. Jam-apple Remus. JEN-knee say pas…”
Sirius forgets to pay attention as he keeps speaking, lungs burning because he also forgets to breathe, gasping in a breath before he cries, “C'est magnifique! Perfect French, well said, Moons. Do you happen to have family in France? Perhaps a distant relative that once lived there?”
“No,” Remus says flatly, fluttering those illegally long eyelashes before heaving himself up with a grunt, collecting his things. “It’s almost time for Ancient Runes, and you lot are being weird, so I’m going to be off now.”
“Wait, I’ll come with you.” Sirius darts forward, scooping his bag and Remus’ for good measure, slinging them both over his shoulder as he beams at him. “I’ll walk to class with you. Wouldn’t want to be late, you know.”
Remus gives him a befuddled look, glancing over at where James and Peter are both standing with unreadable expressions, finally lifting one shoulder and loping towards the castle with his hands in his pockets. “I’m not even going to ask questions, I’m just going to go with it. I’m going to assume this is like that time you made us say ‘yes, and’ to everything and that it’s some sort of bit you haven’t let me in on yet.”
“You’re so funny,” Sirius says breathlessly, shoving the sheaf of parchment into his pocket, a skip in his step as he bounds along at Remus’ side.
Madam Pomfrey rolls her lips between her teeth as she looks at him, brow furrowed, the second hand of the clock loudly ticking away for nearly a minute before she finally speaks. “Mr. Black, you know that I am not at liberty to speak about other students’ private medical conditions.”
“No, I know,” he says, nodding rapidly, pulling a list of questions from his pockets. “And this is just- It’s not about one person in particular, it’s more about Veela in general.”
“Then I think your questions would be better directed towards Professor Kettleburn or Professor Singh, wouldn’t they?”
“No! Because I want to know more about what sort of changes someone might go through if they have latent Veela genealogy that’s making itself known. Like, how might that affect them? Would there be a shift in their appearance, things like that.”
Madam Pomfrey’s eyes narrow. “You know, I always wondered, especially with Narcissa’s hair being as light as it is. What sort of things have you been experiencing?”
“What?” he asks, feeling confused, until he realizes that she thinks that he is coming into some sort of Veela heritage. “No! Not me! Like I said, these are purely hypothetical questions.”
She makes a little humph noise, shaking her head, but holds her hand out for the list nonetheless. “Let me take a look.”
He grins, forking it over, pulling out a self-inking quill and a his sheaf of information about Remus, taking notes as she starts answering the first question.
Sirius is trying to put together a speech, a way to break it to Remus as gently as he can that on top of being a werewolf while also coming into his apparent Veela heritage, but James is waxing poetic about Lily at his side, which is more distracting than it has any business being.
“And her eyes,” James sighs, crammed into Sirius’ bed with him, smiling up at the canopy. “They’re just so green. Like emeralds. With little flecks of gold. I didn’t even know that eyes could be that color until I met her.”
Sirius snorts—Lily’s eyes are just plain, normal green—crossing out his last line because it was shite, chewing on his lower lip as he tries to concentrate.
“And her hair. It’s so soft, Pads. Have I ever told you how soft her hair is? It’s like silk when you touch it. She let me attempt to braid it the other day—which was a disaster, thank Merlin for unknotting charms—but it was so nice being able to just run my fingers through it for ages without her fussing at me about messing it up. She got some sort of muggle potion that makes it smell like Drooble’s, and-”
Sirius’ quill slows to a stop as he listens to James ramble on about Lily, brow furrowing as he stares at his parchment, thinking that all of this sounds awfully familiar. After a long moment it dawns on him that it’s the same way he talks about Remus, the same reverence that he feels for him evident in James’ tone. But that doesn’t make any sense, because James is in love with Lily, and Sirius…
“Am I in love with Remus?” he asks, cutting James off, rolling over onto his side to look at him.
“Well, I’ve suspected so for a couple of years, but I wasn’t really sure,” James answers easily, head flopping to the side to look at him, wiggling his nose around in that idiotic way to scoot his glasses into place. “Would it be so bad if you were?”
“Well, Remus is a bloke, first of all. But I had a crush on Maggie Burke last year, even dated her for nearly the entire term, and that didn’t feel anything like this.”
James gives him a sympathetic look, reaching over to pat his chest. “I don’t know how to break it to you, Pads, but I don’t think that you actually liked Maggie all that much. You whinged about her constantly, always looked miserable when you were with her, and that one time you quite literally hid in a bush so that she wouldn’t see you. You got a rash all over your stomach from the nettles, remember?”
“Couldn’t forget it if I tried,” he grumbles, scratching the phantom itch on his stomach, letting himself think about Remus in the way he’s thought about girls in the past. He lets himself imagine the way Remus’ cheeks would flush if he flirted with him, the way those long, alluring lashes would flutter if Sirius ran a hand through his hair, the way his plush lips would feel against his own if he leaned into kiss him, the way his mouth would taste if their tongues brushed, the way-
“Okay,” Sirius gasps, hastily sitting up and hiding his crotch with the parchment he was writing on, taking a few deep breaths as he wills his erection to fade. “Okay. I- I think I’m in love with Remus.”
“Atta boy.” James claps him on the shoulder, giving him a wide grin when he glances over his shoulder at him, expression slowly faltering as his eyes flick across the room to where Pete is snoring loudly, mouth hanging open and one foot hanging off the bed. “But maybe, um… Maybe that should stay between us, for the time being. Not everyone is… Well, they’re stupid wankers if they won’t support you, but I do, and there’s no use painting yet another target on your back unnecessarily. That’s just going to take some time.”
“You don’t think I should tell Remus?” he asks, stomach sinking, wondering how he’s supposed to go on now that he’s realized he’s disgustingly in love with his best friend.
“Oh, no, I definitely think you should talk to Remus,” James says, his grin returning, something mischievous flashing in his eyes. “You know, he’s patrolling alone tonight. Daisy Edwards ‘has the flu’, also known as she partied too hard last night, but Remus told her to take the night off. I’m sure he’d appreciate the company.”
Sirius gulps down air like he’s just finished playing a quidditch match, chest heaving, before he rolls off the bed and makes it halfway to the door before he realizes that he should probably put on shoes…
And trousers. Those would probably be nice.
Sirius keeps one eye on the map as he stalks around the backside of greenhouse five, wondering what on earth Moony is even doing back here, a smirk pulling at his lips when he smells the sharp, skunky smoke just a moment later. He clears the map before tucking it away in his pocket, following his nose, huffing out a laugh through his nose when he finds Remus tucked away behind a tree, head tipped back and eyes closed, a lit spliff dangling from his fingers.
“I can’t believe you’re getting high and not sharing with the rest of us,” he calls, grinning when Remus’ head snaps up and he shoves the spliff behind his back, letting out a little hiss moments later. “Alright there, Moons?”
“I was until you scared the piss out of me,” Remus grumbles, holding the spliff out towards him as he approaches, watching from beneath his lashes as Sirius brings it to his lips and takes a deep drag. “What are you doing out here? It’s past curfew, you know.”
“I’m well aware, prefect Moony,” he says, blowing out a stream of smoke and taking another drag before he passes it back, shivering as Remus’ fingers brush against his own. “I was looking for you.”
“For me?” Remus asks, his face aglow in the light of the burning cherry, and he’s just so beautiful that it makes Sirius want to weep. He still thinks that he might have been onto something with the Veela thing, there’s no possible way that Remus is only human… Well, mostly human, minus one day out of the month. “Why?”
Sirius winces, shifting on his feet and running a hand through his hair, wondering how on Earth he’s supposed to confess something like this. He doesn’t think that Remus will take it badly, he’s much too good for that, but the idea of him not liking Sirius back is just… devastating. He nearly chickens out completely until he catches the way that Remus is watching him from the corner of his eye, leaning towards Sirius almost unconsciously, thinking back on that mischievous look in James’ eye and wondering if he possibly knows more than he was letting on.
“I wanted to tell you something,” he blurts out, reaching for the spliff again, and when Remus doesn’t release immediately he lifts his whole hand towards his face, lips pursing against his fingertips as he inhales. Remus’ pupils dilate before blowing wide, a breath catching in his throat, giving Sirius the courage to continue, speaking with his lungs full of smoke.
“The first thing is that I think I might be bent. Or, at least half-bent, like Bowie. But more importantly than that, um… Well, I think I might be in love with you? Or I have a crush on you, maybe, though I’m not exactly sure how you’re supposed to tell, but according to James I did not have a crush on Maggie, which I thought I did. And I’ve spent the last few weeks thinking that you were secretly a Veela and using your wiles against me, though that doesn’t make a lot of sense because James and Pete probably would have been affected as well, but-”
Sirius is, thankfully, cut off by Remus’ lips slamming into his own. He lets out a little startled noise before he realizes what’s happening, the spliff falling to the ground at their feet, and Remus starts to pull back before his brain finally catches up to the situation, grabbing Remus by the face and sealing their mouths together again. Fireworks erupt in his stomach as Remus’ lips move against his own, tasting faintly of weed and something sweet, letting his arms slide down to rest on Remus’ shoulders as his twine around Sirius’ waist.
“I take it that means you possibly like me back,” he pants when they finally separate, lips tingling, reaching up to swipe his thumb over the corner of Remus’ mouth.
“Astute observation, Messer Padfoot,” Remus says with a little chuckle, eyes looking so bright in the weak moonlight, blue pools that Sirius wants to dive into. “I have for a few years, but… Well, I wasn’t planning on saying anything. I didn’t think it was worth ruining our friendship over.”
“Nothing could ever ruin our friendship,” he murmurs, heart breaking in his chest, wishing that someone would have clued him in at the start of the year that his ridiculous reaction to Remus was simply because he’s hot. “But especially not this.”
Remus makes a delicious little sound as he bends to kiss him again, one hand sliding up into his hair, fingers tangling in the strands at the nape of his neck in a way that has him gasping for air. Sirius stumbles backwards, back hitting the tree, pulling Remus against him as he runs his tongue along the seam of his mouth, seeking entrance. He wants to spend the rest of his night just like this, with Remus pressed against him and filling all of his senses, groaning as Remus’ other hand sweeps down his back, losing himself in the kiss completely until he hears the worst sound in the world.
A small, smug sounding meow.
“Fucking shit,” he gasps, reluctantly pulling away from Remus’ delectable looking mouth—lips spit-slicked and swollen—looking around until he spots Mrs. Norris peering at them from around the corner of the greenhouse. “We’ve gotta go. Filch will have our bollocks if he catches us getting high out here.”
“Wouldn’t want that,” Remus mutters, voice sounding even deeper than usual, and Sirius nearly pulls him back into him until the goddamn cat meows again. He stoops, picking up the spliff and pocketing it, grabbing Sirius’ hand and tugging at it when he doesn’t move. “C’mon, Pads, let's go.”
“Yeah, lets,” he says, feeling a little dazed as he laces their fingers together, wondering if it’s normal to feel butterflies from something as simple as hand holding. He doesn’t have time to wonder for long, though, his ears picking up the sound of Filch’s grumbling, holding on tightly to Remus as the two of them sprint away into the darkness, making their way towards the hidden entrance in the Bell Tower.
Remus, amazingly, doesn’t release his hand until they’re in front of the entrance to the common room, both of them laughing breathlessly as the Fat Lady’s portrait swings shut behind them. He does it with a small, apologetic smile, squeezing his fingers gently before he lets go.
“You know, I don’t have rounds tomorrow. Maybe we could meet somewhere private and continue tonight's discussion. I want to hear more about whatever you were saying about Veela, earlier, because I can’t even begin to imagine how you thought that had anything to do with me.”
“I have irrefutable evidence,” he says, stealing a quick glance around and making sure that the common room is empty, curling one hand around the back of Remus’ neck as he pulls him in for a soft, lingering kiss. “I think you’ll be convinced.”
“I can’t wait,” Remus murmurs, kissing the corner of his mouth and looping his arms around Sirius, letting out a shaky breath as he leans his head against his shoulder. “Sirius, I- Does this mean- I don’t-”
“I’m hoping it means that we’re dating,” he whispers into Remus’ hair, hugging him back, the two of them still hunched down inside the entrance tunnel where they’re likely to be caught by anyone coming or going, but he can’t bring himself to pull away. “We can figure out what that means to us later, alright? But, uh… James already sort of knows. He’s the one who told me to come find you tonight.”
“Okay,” Remus whispers, arms tightening around him, and Sirius just breathes in the sweet scent of his shampoo, the two of them holding each other tightly.
It isn’t until Sirius is getting ready for bed, stripping out of his clothes and emptying his pockets onto his bedside table while sneaking glances over his shoulder at Remus—who is doing the same—that he realizes that the contents are a little light.
He still has his wand, the firecracker that he’s been carrying for days while waiting for an opportunity to use, some Ice Mice, a detention referral that he’s yet to fulfill, and his notes on Remus’ Veela inheritance… but no map. He pats his pockets again, looking over at Remus to make sure that he doesn’t have it, sticking his hands in as far as they’ll go just to be sure before he realizes that it must have fallen out at some point while he and Remus were snogging, having a distinct memory of Remus’ hands pawing at his backside before they ran from Filch.
He’s lost the map.
James is going to kill him.