Chapter Text
The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black was neither loving nor kind. Sirius had learned this very early in life, and he knew he was an outcast in his home. The boy, even as a young child, had possessed a certain empathy that his kin seemed to lack severely. Walburga Black was as unkind as a mother could be, just short of kicking Sirius out completely, and his father was typically absent from his life, only appearing to agree with his mother or execute disciplinary measures.
Upon entering Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and being sorted into Gryffindor, Sirius knew his torment would only grow. The abuse he suffered while residing at 12 Grimmauld Place had worsened greatly, but it was made better as he gained the friendship of three fellow housemembers, James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. As he entered his 5th year at Hogwarts, his friendships were extremely well-knit, creating a family unlike any Sirius had known.
“Come on, Pete, you actually need to focus, or you’ll never pass your exams!”
The sound of James’ voice had knocked Sirius out of whatever dazed state he had been in for the past 3 hours. He had felt horrid all day; the end of term was quickly approaching, and Sirius knew he would need to return to his parents. The thought alone sickened him, with the threat of war looming over the wizarding world, his place of residence had become unbearable. The Blacks were dark wizards, pure-blood elitists who had no shame on their side of the fighting. Returning to the present, he could hear Peter's panic and James's frustrated mentoring.
“But I just don’t understand! I’ve been trying this spell exactly how you’ve told me for hours!” Peter would whine in his high-pitched, squeaky voice.
“No, you haven’t. You look like an idiot street performer, not a serious wizard! Your movements are too showy and large, it's a simple flick, not a performance, Pete!”
Sirius had decided this was not what he needed and began making his way up the steps to the dormitories. Every single step was agonizing, the stone feeling extremely hard beneath his feet, sending aches up his already sore legs. Thankfully, it was only a short 10 steps, and he made it to his door, turning the handle with a gentleness that was almost unsettling for the typically rowdy and upbeat boy.
Fuck.
As if this day couldn’t get any worse, Remus is sitting in his bed reading a book. Now, this wouldn't typically be an issue for Sirius, but today seems different. He doesn’t have the energy to be calm and collected around Remus, not when every millimeter of his body, mind, and soul longs for comfort and a bit of gentle love.
“Pads? You don’t look too good. Is something bothering you?” Remus is getting out of bed, his hair–the color resembling peat moss–messy and tangled. His comfy socks hit the mahogany ground with a soft thudding as he walks over to his best friend.
“I’m fine, Moons, no need to worry. Just come up for a lie down,” Sirius almost whispers.
“You are, and have always been, an absolutely horrible liar, Sirius.”
“Am not.”
“Stop whining and come here.”
He wanted to fight, to be annoying and squabble with his friend, but the husky voice was so persuasive. After a moment's hesitation, he stalks to his own bed and lays his head on the pillow. Remus sits down next to him, up by his chest, and puts his hand on Sirius’ shoulder, trying to provide comfort.
But he flinches.
Sirius Orian Black flinches away from Remus John Lupin for the first time in the history of their friendship.
Despite initial thoughts to remove his hand, Remus lies down beside him and gently pulls Sirius into a loose hug. Remus isn't stupid; he knows what pain looks like, and right now, as he looks into his friend's eyes, he knows that he is far past hurting. They don’t speak. There’s no need to communicate their thoughts, not when they read each other like a poet reading a beautiful poem. In each other’s eyes, they are beautiful. It’s the kind of thing that boys aren't meant to say to each other; it’s weak and sappy, girls talk like that, not these two boys. Sirius had learned early on that being vulnerable is a weakness, a flaw to be punished, and Remus had learned this from his street fights.
Sirius knows that he needs to let Remus in, to let him see the pain and anguish within him, but he can’t–he won’t–show that side of him. If he does, Remus might think he's weak or just being stupid. It’s an irrational thought for sure, but it still plagues him.