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Summary
Sirius decided to stop pretending to write his own essay and leaned forward over the desk; stomach pressed against the table edge and propped his chin up on the heel of his palm, staring openly at the studious boy opposite. Remus was gorgeous like this – the thin wire frames of his reading glasses forever sliding down his nose to be repeatedly pushed back up again, quill tickling his chin whenever he shifted forward, and every now and then, when he paused for thought, the tip of his tongue would dart out to wet his lower lip. As he continued to watch, Sirius felt his mouth becoming gradually drier.