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The library was quiet. It was a Saturday, and very early in the morning; there were only a few seventh years burdened with bundles of work and sitting at tables, pouring through large volumes that most certainly hurt their eyes to read. And there was Remus, of course. Luckily for him, his morning-adventure was more leisurely than his peers’. He walked silently through the books, sometimes touching his fingers softly to the spines, sometimes whispering their titles softly under his breath, getting a feel for them. There were only so many works of fiction in the school library, and Remus had already read through many of them. That said, there were still several that he had not gotten around to yet.
He stopped, looking over a leather spine curiously. It was soft to the touch, and very old. A Tribute to St. Valentine was written in sprawling cursive across the top. There was no author.
~
Remus sat against the window on the spacious day bed, pulling the curtains closed behind him. The others were still asleep in their beds, and the morning sun filled only his little sanctuary, thin shadows falling on him from the criss-crossed metal on the outside of the glass. He had made a trip to the kitchens before settling down to read, and he held his steaming mug of cocoa in one hand, resting on his stomach, as he began to read.
Forward
In 265 A.D., the Emperor Claudius decrees it illegal for young men to marry. He believes they are better soldiers when not distracted by the sweet faces and hands of young wives. In the absence of marriage, humanity’s faults are put on display for all to see.
In 265 A.D., in secret, the Saint Valentine marries the young men and women who come to him, pleading, putting his life on the line to see the sacred passage of marriage through. He is killed for this crime.
In 265 A.D., love in its most sacred form was made unachievable.
And yet, there were those few.
Remus took a sip from his mug, careful not to burn himself, and flipped the page. He choked, only barely containing the cocoa that threatened to fly all over the page. All over the page where his own name was printed, directly under ‘Chapter One’. Well, then, it wasn’t as if there weren't other Remuses in the world, or that it couldn't be the name of a character. It wasn’t totally unusual. And yet, as he read, he could help but notice there was something about the scene that didn’t sit right. The Remus in the book was at the top of an astronomy tower, watching the stars. He had a term paper due— for Arthimancy, on number properties.
The non-literary Remus’ eyes darted toward the curtain, beyond which sat his desk and, on it, his Arithmancy term paper, finished the day before. Their professor was old, and had been there a long time. He likely repeated assignments. Any number of former students might have written the same paper, and derived inspiration there. Any number.
Remus-on-the-paper was waiting for someone: a good friend, maybe even a love interest, it seemed. Remus relaxed a bit and sipped at his cocoa some more, a faint and satisfied smile on his lips. He was right, it couldn’t possibly be a strange chronicle of his life: there was no love interest that would ever visit him at the top of the Astronomy tower. The coincidences would end here, and he could enjoy his story in peace. Remus’ literary parallel —but not really a parallel at all, he reminded himself— had been asked to meet his mysterious admirer here earlier in the day. He hadn’t planned on coming, but he felt bad for whoever it was and wanted to let them down kindly. They didn’t know the impossibility of what they were asking, after all.
He had been waiting for ages and was about to give up when the footsteps finally came. He rose, dusting his pant legs, and sighed, not altogether thrilled at the job he had to do. Disappointing people was one of his least favourite things to do.
And yet, the footsteps did not end up being those of an admirer’s after all, but those of a close friend’s. They were—
Sirius’.
Remus closed his eyes for a moment and then reopened them, sure he would find a different name there. A more sensible name.
Sirius’.
He stared at the name for a few more moments before throwing all attempts of rational deduction out of the window and reading on. It didn’t really matter just now what it meant; the story was there regardless.
“You’re here,” Sirius said. He sounded slightly out of breath.
“Yeah, I was supposed to meet someone, but they didn’t show. Did you need me for something? I can come down now if you’d like, this isn’t super important.” Nothing could be, if Sirius did need something.
“Are you sure it’s not important?” Sirius asked.
“Definitely. Let’s go,” he said. For some reason, the idea of an admirer advancing on him while Sirius was here was quite unattractive, and he was in a hurry to move them back to their own tower. However, Sirius didn’t appear to like his answer.
“I didn’t walk all the way up here just to go right back down again.”
“What?” Remus asked, bewildered.
“And who are you to dictate the importance of whatever you were supposed to be doing up here? You don’t even know what they were going to say!” Remus stared at him for a moment, baffled, before responding.
“I mean, thank you for the consideration, but I really don’t think it’s necessary. Nothing can be as important as—” he broke off. He hadn’t meant to say that.
“As what?”
“Nothing.”
“As important as what?”
“Nothing Sirius, just let it go.”
Remus tried to walk past him, but Sirius grabbed his wrist. Remus noticed for the first time that there was a peculiar look in his eyes. He spoke accidentally, distracted by those eyes.
“As important as you.”
Sirius’ eyebrows relaxed from their upset expression, and he smiled very faintly. The hand that wasn’t holding Remus reached up to gently hold his face and stepped closer to him; closer than Remus thought he had ever been before—
Remus set the book down, staring at it. His cocoa sat forgotten in his hand. For a heartbeat, his mind was completely blank, and then all at once a thousand questions raced through his mind: what, when, how, where, who; he was overcome by them. And then, rising from all of them, a realisation. A stunning, impossible realisation. Beyond the curtain sat his desk, and, on it, his Arithmancy paper, completed the night before. And, under it, a small note: “Astronomy Tower, 8pm? All my love.”
Still reeling from the thought, he made his way quickly to his desk, to look at the note once more. He wasn’t sure how, after six years living together, Remus could have failed to recognise the handwriting. Probably the sheer impossibility of the idea.
All my love.
Astronomy Tower, 8pm.
All my love.
Remus’ heart was pounding as he accepted the possibility. Sirius. Astronomy Tower. All his love. All of his love? Remus’ eyes travelled back to the book cover, sitting innocently on the day bed, the curtains askew just enough to let a trail of light lead up to it. He didn’t think he was capable of puzzling out whatever magic was behind it, that was beyond him. It seemed like a sort of projection of what would have happened if he had shown up that night… Curiosity getting the better of him, Remus walked slowly back, sat down cautiously, and picked the book back up, peeking at the rest of the scene. His fingers rose subconsciously to his lips.
Remus had never thought it would ever be possible for anything to happen with Sirius. He cherished the moments he spent with him doing homework, eating breakfast in the morning, talking with James and Peter, even just sitting through class. He relished them, because they were what he got, and he was more than grateful. Asking for more would be a stupid and pointless endeavour. That said, he believed he knew someone who was a bit overdone if just that type of endeavour exactly.
Astronomy Tower, 8pm? All my love.
He sat a little straighter, the book dropping to his lap. His cocoa sat on the desk, forgotten. He hadn’t gone. He didn’t want to go through the ordeal of turning someone down and feeling awful about it, didn’t want to see the disappointment he caused, and he hadn’t gone. Now that he thought about it, he and James had even wondered about Sirius’ absence that night before.
“Shite,” Remus murmured. “Shiteshiteshiteshite.”
How long had Sirius sat there, waiting for him? Surely he assumed Remus would not be so stupid as to not recognise his handwriting… he must have assumed Remus was rejecting him. Panicked, he set his book aside and drew back the curtain further, finding himself standing before he realised he had no idea what to do or say. They were all still asleep. That said, if the tables were turned, he wouldn’t mind being woken up. Without thinking further, Remus crossed the room in three long strides and pulled back Sirius’ bed curtain, sitting next to him and pulling it back to where it had been.
“Sirius,” he whispered, shaking him lightly. “Sirius, wake up.”
His eyes opened, still slightly blurry with sleep. It seemed at first like he meant to be cross, but then he realised it was Rmeus and gave him a sleepy smile.
“What’s up, Rem?” he asked, his eyes closing slightly again. Without a thought, Remus leaned down, running a hand through Sirius’ dark hair.
His lips were warm, and soft. At first Sirius froze, but as he woke enough to realize what was happening he returned the kiss with enthusiasm. A hand wrapped around the back of Remus' neck, pulling him closer. It was everything he had ever imagined. More, even, if that were possible. When they pulled apart, Remus rested his forehead on Sirius’, his eyes closed blissfully.
“You wrote me that note,” He whispered after a moment.
“I did,” Sirius whispered back.
“I think I was a bit dense.”
Sirius chuckled.
“Yeah, you can be that way sometimes.” Sirius moved his head, planting small, sweet kisses along the line of Remus’ jaw and down his throat. “But I love you regardless.”