Chapter Text
Remus Lupin was a creature of habit. It was near impossible to be anything else when the moon pulled at his bones month after month, and when he found such comfort in what he could control. He sunk into the same worn, leather chair of the Ravenclaw common room every night with books he knew by heart, spines cracked at his favorite parts; he traced the same labyrinthine trek to the Great Hall each morning to say hello to the portraits who knew his name; he took his tea with too much cream and one sugar and refused to leave the Great Hall without having finished every drop. He supposed he might be boring, with the same little things he did each day, but he found a semblance of normalcy in them when his whole life felt very much…well, not. He rather liked these boring little things, and was hard-pressed to find something else he liked so much. They were within his control when everything else felt very much out of it.
He just wanted to be normal, or whatever the closest approximation could be, all things considered. It was a pity, then, that the one habit he had held onto longest was the one which made him feel the strangest of them all - watching Sirius Black.
It hadn’t started on purpose. Remus was adamant on that point, but somewhere along the line he sunk deep into the habit and couldn’t let it go. Sirius Black wasn’t like anyone Remus knew, and to say he knew the boy was a far reach. They weren’t friends, let alone acquaintances, but Sirius made sure everyone at Hogwarts knew who he was, and Remus followed his trajectory involuntarily.
The boy was reckless and loud, and altogether too mischievous for anyone’s good. Trouble seemed to follow him wherever he went and he welcomed it like it was as good a companion to him as the two boys he spent all of his time with. He laughed easily and with frequency, and he basked in attention in a way that Remus could never do. He was the complete opposite of Remus in every way that he could see, but he couldn’t ignore him.
Remus was in his third year when it started, when Sirius was assigned as his partner in class and Professor Flitwick tasked them with the Cheering Charm. The wizard had warned them against heavy-handedness before pairing them off, an obvious attempt at separating Housemates and friends who would otherwise clump together and goof off. Remus had been nervous, approaching Sirius where he sat at the back of the room, and envious that Kingsley, his closest friend, was paired with Lily Evans instead.
As it turned out, Remus was right to worry. Delight gleamed in Sirius’ eyes and before Remus could register the jabbing motion of Sirius’ wand, he was bent over with laughter, everything suddenly much funnier than it had been just seconds ago. The professor’s combed-over hair, his classmates’ wide eyes and gaping mouths, the obscene-looking flowers on Flitwick’s desk that reminded Remus of an anatomy lesson… he could hardly catch his breath.
It was only when Professor Flitwick escorted him from the room that Remus realized what Sirius had done, and the absurdity of it made him giggle that much harder. Later, once Madam Pomfrey looked him over and administered a Calming Draught, he wondered if anyone Sirius had partnered with was destined to such a fate, or if it was something special about him.
From that moment on, he was hyper aware of the Gryffindor in hallways and classrooms, weary of him should Remus prove an easy target for future pranks. It was a form of self preservation, he told himself, and he successfully avoided any more pranks that term, no small thanks to his constant vigilance.
And then Remus went home for summer hols and mostly forgot about Sirius Black and the trouble he caused. He had other things to preoccupy his mind. Two full moons in the underground cellar left him weak and hurting, so he barely left the house in the weeks that followed transformations. Thus, he was completely unprepared when he returned from the holidays only to find that Sirius was taller than last he’d seen him, his jawline more defined than he remembered, and his silver eyes absolutely captivating. Something about the way Sirius smirked at him in the Entrance Hall twisted Remus’ stomach in knots, similar yet entirely different than the anxiety he’d felt before, and alarm bells rung. He told himself it was post-traumatic stress, thinking back on a fit of uncontrollable laughter, and then quickly looked away. It didn’t occur to him to feel strange about the whole thing until he caught himself staring quite absent-mindedly a few days later, tracing the lines of Sirius’ fingers as he tapped them against the desk in their first shared class of the year. Sirius caught his eye and smirked, and the feeling came rushing back.
And then Sirius was everywhere he looked - in the library, throwing pencils at a hapless Slytherin’s head; in the courtyard, broom slung over his shoulder; in the hallway, raucous and whooping with his friends; in the Great Hall, in Hogsmeade, in his classes, in his dreams.
Remus had to admit he was besotted and learn to hide his attentions better, to feign innocence if Sirius caught him staring again. He scowled each time Sirius looked his way, refused to speak to him on the off-chance he’d reveal himself further. But he couldn’t bring himself to stop.
Because what was this in the face of his monstrosity? What could possibly make him any more of a freak than the curse that tore at muscle and restitched bone at the whim of a far off rock?
No, he’d decided, it wasn’t a habit that would ever make him feel normal, but it was his, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything.