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Chapter Text

Sirius Black didn’t have time for this. His life had been turned upside down in the last few months and he did not have time for this. Yet there he was, marching across the university campus towards the office of Regulus’ uptight professor who had just denied his little brother extra work to improve his grade. 

What kind of git didn't cut some slack to a newly orphaned kid?

He was angry. Lately, everything had been making him angry. 

Ever since he received the call from Kreacher, he was angry. His parents had passed away, finally, but they left behind a burden of trauma for Regulus. Couldn't they have died peacefully in their sleep or from a terminal illness, like older people do? No, they had to die in a brutal car accident.

He remembered walking into James' room that day, a few minutes after receiving the news. The two sat side by side in silence for a while until Sirius chuckled, feeling a weight lift off his chest. 

It was a terrible feeling to despise your parents so deeply and yet feel for their deaths. He hadn't seen his parents since he was 16, and now they were dead. He wasn't grieving. He was angry. His parents were never meant to be parents, yet they were, and they had ruined him. And now they were dead.

His parents were dead. Orion and Walburga were dead. 

Sirius hated them. He hated his parents and hated that they were dead, but the laughter continued to bubble up from within until his phone rang, displaying his brother's name on the screen.

That brought Sirius' laughter to an end.

Regulus. 

Regulus, now all alone in France. His little brother.

If there was anyone who made him realise that loving and hating could be a fine line, it was Regulus. Sirius hated that his brother hadn't left with him. He despised that Regulus turned 18 and stayed with their parents. He resented that Regulus could have even the slightest relationship with their parents while he couldn't. He hated how different Regulus was from him.

And he loved him. Oh, how Sirius loved his little brother. He loved him so much that he ignored all the unresolved feelings he harboured, kept them bottled up inside, and opened his arms to him.

And Regulus came. He accepted his brother's arms, and Sirius continued to cling to all his resentment inside him. He kept those feelings inside, not wanting to burden Regulus any further.

So he pretended everything was just fine. He bottled up his emotions and pretended everything was good.

The death of his parents didn't matter. Being disinherited didn't matter. Everything was fine. It was just pretend that it was. 

Since Regulus moved into the flat, he felt a growing sense of anguish in the place. His brother always seemed on the verge of exploding, keeping everything locked inside himself, and Sirius didn't know what to do. He was the older brother and he felt utterly useless.

The least he could do was sort this out for his brother. Regulus hadn't been doing well in his classes since the car crash and his professor had refused him extra credit despite their parents having died just a month ago or so. Sirius would make him pay for it, even if it meant using his fists.

It was early evening, and Sirius wasn't sure if this Lupin bloke would still be around the university. He hurried through the grand castle entrance, its stone walls echoing with the footsteps of students rushing to their night classes. The corridors, lined with portraits of stern-faced professors, led him past classrooms where the hum of evening lectures filled the air.

His steps were heavy and quick as he headed towards the Department of English, motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm, already imagining a thousand ways to break Professor Lupin's face.

Knowing Lupin was an assistant professor, Sirius guessed he probably shared an office with other teachers and didn't have one of his own, so his office was probably close to this classroom. He passed by where he knew Regulus' classes were held and continued down the corridor finding the professor's office. 

He tried the door, but it was locked. 

He knocked once. No response.

Sirius glanced over his sunglasses and looked around. The corridor was empty in both directions. The door to the office was an old wooden one with a brass handle, its surface scratched and worn from years of use. He took his helmet from under his arm and smashed it hard against the handle. The sound of the doorknob breaking made him smile. He stepped back and kicked the door, finally shattering the lock.  The door flew open loudly, crashing against the wall.

The office was dimly lit, with a single desk lamp casting a warm glow over the space. Bookshelves lined the walls, overflowing with dusty tomes and academic journals. Papers were scattered across the desk, some covered in scribbled notes. There was a mug of hot tea still steaming and an open chocolate bar on the table. The air smelled faintly of books and ink pens, mingled with the rich scent of the chocolate.

"What the fuck?"

Sirius turned around, ready to tell the professor to fuck off.

He paused. Professor Lupin wasn't an old man who looked like he was about to keel over with every breath, like Professor Binns. 

Lupin was a young man. And tall. He was incredibly tall. He had scars on the bridge of his nose that ran over his cheeks, with a few more at the corners of his mouth. His hazel eyes were sharp and intelligent, and his sandy hair had a tousled look.

He had long fingers gripping a book tightly, as if ready to use it as a weapon. More faint scars marked the skin of his hands, which seemed to continue across his body.

There was an air of mystery about him, an almost magnetic pull that drew Sirius in. His eyes ran over him, brown shoes on his feet, a white button-down shirt paired with a black tie, adding a formal touch. Over that, he wore a patterned cardigan in shades of burgundy and dark grey with intricate designs, adding more of a warmth and a relaxed vibe. His loose-fitting, light beige pants with multiple pockets contributed to a casual and practical style. He dressed like an old man. And for some reason, Sirius couldn’t take his eyes off him.

Sirius' gaze drifted across the floor until it reached his large, heavy combat boots and his leather jacket before finally settling on Lupin again. 

"I'm not really in the mood for reading, to be honest, professor," he said.

Lupin scoffed. "Who—"

"Or are you planning to attack me with a book?" he interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "I wouldn't advise it."

He pushed the sunglasses up onto his head and noticed Lupin glaring at the accessory as though it had offended him.

"What the hell are you playin' at? I've called the police!"

"You really shouldn't have done that, mate" Sirius grumbled, annoyed. "Prongs is going to murder me."

Lupin studied him, his fingers white from gripping the book tightly. Sirius grinned and took a step closer, his black combat boots a mere pace from Lupin’s light brown oxford shoes, which looked old and worn. Though tall himself, Sirius had to tilt his head slightly to meet Lupin's gaze up close. And a hazel gaze was fixed on him. He hadn't looked away from Sirius since he arrived.

"You smashed my office door down."

"Oh, I didn't notice," Sirius mocked, feigning surprise.

Lupin's eyes narrowed, his tone sharp with irritation. "What do you want?"

"I want you to go fuck yourself."

Lupin staggered back, his expression a mix of disbelief and anger. "Who the bloody hell do you think you are?"

"Sirius Black! It's always you, young lad!"

Sirius turned towards the voice, sensing the weight of Lupin's unmoving gaze bearing down on him. The tension crackled between them, the air thick with electricity.

Down the corridor, Hagrid emerged with his colossal frame, towering over everyone else in the corridor even Lupin, with his dog Fang beside him, followed closely by the police. As they approached Sirius, Fang's expression softened, and he began to wag his tail enthusiastically, leaning forward to lick Sirius' hand in a gesture of affection.

"I can't believe you called the police. I'm too pretty for jail."

"You broke into my office outside of school hours. Like a maniac. You look like a maniac."

"Don't go praising me, Lupin."

"What's the matter here?" asked the policeman, but Sirius didn't take his eyes off Lupin to answer.

"Oh, just a friendly debate about office decor. Nothing to concern yourself with. You can get going, Mad-Eye."

Lupin looked even more incredulous that Sirius had called the policeman that. Moody just grumbled, having already crossed paths with him once or twice. He was the one who always responded to calls around Hogwarts; rumour has it he had been a former student there. And everyone called him Mad-Eye Moody behind his back, well, except Sirius.

"Watch it, Black," the policeman warned, his tone firm.

This was the moment when Sirius should have toned it down and kept his head low, but toning it down was never in his nature, and soon enough, he found himself in handcuffs. The metallic click of the cuffs closing around his wrists echoed through the tense atmosphere, contrasting sharply with the lingering tension between Sirius and Lupin. The professor bore a mixture of frustration and curiosity while Sirius stood defiant, his expression a blend of mock and reckless amusement, as the police officers moved to escort him away, Fang's concerned whines trailing behind them down the corridor.

"Always the same old Sirius—causing chaos wherever you go," Hagrid sighed.

"Someone's got to keep life interesting around here, innit?"

"You're unbelievable," Lupin gritted his teeth, clearly struggling to maintain composure.

"Thank you."

"Don't waste time, Remus," Hagrid said in a deep West Country accent, keeping his dog at his side. "Sirius here is stubborn; a few hours in jail will do 'im good."

Sirius' eyes lit up. "Remus Lupin? Remus?" he laughed. The police were pulling him away, but he stood firmly grounded, hands cuffed behind his back and gaze fixed on Lupin. "And where's Romulus?" he continued a mischievous glint in his eye. "Surely you didn't leave poor Romulus at home, did you?"

"Romulus is just fine," Lupin mocked, shaking his head slightly. 

Sirius grinned, undeterred. "Oh, but I'm sure Romulus would've loved to see me in handcuffs. It's not every day one gets such entertainment."

Lupin raised an eyebrow. "Are you serious?"

"I always am, Moony."

As the police moved to take him away, students from a nearby classroom watched on. Lupin crossed his arms, the book resting under it. "Don't call me that."

Sirius was leaning casually on the jail bars, a playful grin on his face as he looked at the police officer. He winked at him and saw the officer blush.

"Officer Dawlish, is it?" he said with a charming smile. "I must say, you lot certainly know how to treat a  bloke around here." 

He was held in jail for a while as Moody processed his case to determine whether he would be taken to court for a minor offence. If so, he'd have to pay bail to get out. It was all rather dull.

Already in the cell was a girl who'd run over her ex-boyfriend, Mundungus Fletcher. Sirius, who actually knew the bloke, quipped that with a name like that, he probably had it coming.

But soon enough, Sirius found himself growing bored with the situation.

"I'm bored. I'm so fucking bored."

The officer looked at him wide-eyed, but before he could speak, Moody entered the cold room. "Cut it out, Black," he said annoyed. He seemed like he really wanted Sirius at least to pay bail. "Congratulations, Mr. Lupin decided not to press charges, we're going to let you go," he paused, "again."

Sirius opened a grin as he saw Professor Lupin enter right behind the policeman, towering over everyone there.

The police station was quiet. It seemed almost unnaturally still, with only the occasional shuffle of paperwork or distant murmur of conversation breaking the silence. The atmosphere was tense, charged with the anticipation that Sirius felt, though he wasn't quite sure what for.

Lupin looked somewhat out of place in his grandpa cardigan amidst the police station, which only served to widen Sirius' smile. The professor glanced at him from across the bars, their eyes meeting briefly before Lupin looked away, deep in thought. His expression betrayed a mix of concern and contemplation.

Closer up, Sirius was able to get a better look at the scar at the corner of Lupin's mouth that ran a little towards his chin. His hazel eyes, flecked with brown, held a hint of weariness beneath their warmth. 

Sirius wanted to eat him whole. "Hello, Moony," he smiled, "again."

Chapter Text

Sirius walked ahead, feeling Lupin right behind him, following his footsteps. He glanced momentarily over his shoulder, past the hair falling across his face, and his eyes met the taller man coming out of the police station. The building loomed above them, a modern structure with a grid of windows. A bare tree with twisted branches stood near the end of the steps. Sirius turned and walked down the steps of the police station, the cold stone echoing beneath his boots, before leaning against the wall, feeling the rough concrete press into his back.

Lupin was not what he had imagined. Most of the professors at Hogwarts were older; Dumbledore himself looked like he was a hundred years old, and James and Sirius were actually convinced that Professor Binns from the Department of Art History was a ghost because there was no way he could still be alive and be that old. And most professors certainly didn't follow students to a police station.

He was already waiting when Lupin stopped beside him a few paces away. "Moody said he called your contact."  

"And who did you use your call for? Romulus?" 

Lupin looked at him seriously, probably the same look he used to scold a student disrupting class. "D'you have someone to come and pick you up?"  

"This isn't my first run-in with the police," Sirius replied when Lupin stood there waiting.  

"Yeah, I noticed." The two fell silent again, and Sirius pulled a cigarette from his pack. He didn't offer it to Lupin. "Sirius Black, then? Do you happen to have any connection with the student whose paper I didn't accept today?" 

"He's my fucking brother, you prick." 

"I see you both share the same charming lack of respect." 

"Cheers for that, fuckface."

"Do you get off on bein' disrespectful towards authority?"  

"Are you authority now?"  

"I'm a professor at your university."  

Sirius stepped forward, distancing himself away from the wall and standing close to Lupin. He looked up at him. "Not my professor."

He looked up at Lupin, meeting his amber eyes. Up close, he could see the professor's scars more clearly, some slightly reddish in places. He studied the scar across the bridge of his nose and glanced back up to find Lupin's eyes wandering to his mouth. Sirius smiled, and Lupin's gaze snapped back up.

"I was merely bein' polite in asking," he said. "You and your brother bear an uncanny resemblance."

Offended, Sirius scoffed. "If you fancy a less handsome and interesting version of me, then yes, we are quite similar," he replied. "And was this your way of distracting me from the fact that you're not my professor? Well, actually, this would be much more fun if you were my professor."

"You're entirely inappropriate."

Sirius smiled. "I know."

The professor seemed to track every movement Sirius made, and when he smiled, he felt the heavy gaze following his expression.

"Didn't your parents teach you to respect others, eh?" Lupin asked, and Sirius' smile instantly faded. "Or to respect the law and not get arrested? What do they think of your run-ins with the police?"

"You'd have to ask them. But that might be a bit tricky, considering they're six feet under in a coffin. Dead, you know? But by all means, give it a go and let me know how it turns out."

Professor Lupin looked at him, analysing his words, and Sirius saw his entire expression soften. He closed his eyes tightly and rubbed his forehead. "Would that be your brother's extenuating circumstance?"

"And aren't you just the clever one, professor?" Sirius scoffed, feigning surprise.

"Learn some respect, Mr. Black," Lupin scolded, looking thoroughly fed up. Sirius pressed his lips together and fell silent. He tapped the cigarette between his index and middle fingers to remove the burnt part and took another long drag. Neither he nor Lupin had moved away since getting close to each other. "I am not your peer or your mate; I am part of the faculty at your university. You're not the dominant party here."

"Why did you follow me here, Moony?" The nickname tasted sweet in his mouth; he liked saying it and he liked the way Lupin's lips twitched up when he said it.

"Why did you break into my office?" Lupin countered.

"I think you already understand why," Sirius replied, a smirk creeping onto his face. "But if you need a hint, let's just say it's a bit hard to focus on assignments when you've had a front-row seat to a car crash, yeah?"

Lupin nodded and shoved his hands into the pockets of his tweed jacket. "Your parents passed away recently, and your brother—"

"It's been a right mess since then. And needs some understanding from  his professors." Sirius cut him off. "Why did you refuse him—"

"I had no idea," Lupin interrupted with frustration in his voice. "I thought he—" He sighed. "I thought he was just another spoiled brat who thought he could do whatever he fancied. Like you."

He put the cigarette between his lips again and took a long drag. "Now you know," he said, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "You'd better come up with something to help my brother," he added, letting the smoke curl into the air, "sir."

Lupin rolled his eyes. "Sir?"

"I'm just being polite. You know, showing a bit of respect."

"While threatening me?"

"If you were really that threatened by me, you'd have bolted out of here ages ago," Sirius teased, leaning in slightly, his eyes glinting with mischief. "But here you are, still standing close enough to smell the smoke. You sure you can handle that?"

Lupin raised an eyebrow. "I'm more than capable of handling myself, Mr. Black."

"Sirius," his voice was low and teasing. And there was something in the way Lupin looked at him. Something behind those amber eyes, beneath the responsible, proper exterior he maintained. There was something in his gaze that sparked an eager need in Sirius—to uncover more, to explore, to break Lupin.

And the way Lupin had followed him. He could have easily let it go when the police took him away and put him in the back of the car, but Lupin went after him.  And now he was standing in front of him outside the police station, and he hadn't even punched him for breaking down his office door.

Sirius closed his lips around the cigarette, his eyes never leaving Lupin's.

Lupin's own eyes dropped to where the cigarette smoke was curling from Sirius' mouth, and he took a step back, straightening his clothes as if they weren't already perfectly ironed and wrinkle-free. 

"I trust you can handle yourself from now on," he said, pulling away and finally breaking eye contact with Sirius. "And I'll sort things out with your brother, but don't—don't break any more of my doors, or I won't be so nice next time, Mr. Black."

"Leaving so soon, Moony?" Sirius pouted, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. He saw the way the nickname affected Lupin.

Lupin scoffed, crossing his arms. "I reckon I've done enough babysitting for one day," he said, though his gaze briefly flicked to Sirius' mouth, which didn't go unnoticed by Sirius.

"Bummer," he replied, voice dropping lower as he stepped closer. "I was just starting to enjoy your company, sir."

Lupin rolled his eyes but didn't move back. "Don't flatter yourself, Mr. Black. I'll be sure to lock my doors properly next time."

"Better make sure they're strong enough."

Lupin shook his head, turning on his heel. "Try not to get arrested again."

"Absolutely bonkers, you obnoxious git! How could you—how could you?"

Sirius was slumped on the sofa with his arms crossed, his brother and James looming over him as if he were a child being told off.

"I was bored," he shrugged.

"So you decided to get arrested, did you?"

"I was barely detained. No charges pressed." Sirius laughed as his little brother glared at him, his right eye twitching. He winked at James, who was clearly struggling not to laugh at the whole situation. 

"You tried to break into my professor's office," Regulus said slowly as if he wanted the words to sink in. 

Sirius smirked at his brother. Regulus stood with his arms crossed, his posture incredibly straight and proper, just as they had been taught when they were young. There wasn't a crease in his clothes or a hair out of place in his neatly cut hair. He was completely the opposite of Sirius, whose black curls were loose and unruly after the haircut he had given himself with Marlene in the university bathroom when they had both had enough of classes for the day. He wore a shirt that he suspected was actually James', and his trousers hung loosely on his hips, probably because they belonged to James as well, sometimes slipping down low enough to reveal a glimpse of his black pants. It reminded him of their boarding school days, when Regulus would walk around in his perfectly neat uniform, while Sirius was always getting sent to the headmaster's office for breaking uniform rules.

"I'm aware," he said, looking his brother up and down. Regulus always got annoyed when he thought he was being analysed or judged. And his brother's frown only deepened when he realised that was exactly what Sirius was doing. 

"You truly don't care about anything other than yourself, do you?"

He wanted to say that he did it to protect Regulus, that he wanted to help in some way, that he was there for him, but he couldn't. So he shrugged. "What do you want me to say? I was bored, your professor is a prat, and now my week's just got a lot more interesting." 

Regulus gave a loud scoff. He muttered something, probably calling him a tosser, and went upstairs to lock himself in his room, just like he used to when they were kids.

Sirius and James heard Regulus' heavy, angry footsteps and the door slamming shut, and Sirius grinned again.

"Were you bored, then?" James asked, raising an eyebrow. "Or do you have no emotional control whatsoever? And the moment there was a chance your baby brother might get hurt, did you just go off the rails and get yourself nicked by the police?"

Sirius continued to grin mischievously. "Oh, come on, Prongs. You know I can't resist a bit of drama. Besides, I thought I'd give Regulus a proper reason to sulk in his room for once. Makes a change from the usual, doesn't it?"

"He does sulk a lot," James conceded, flopping down next to Sirius, wearing an old shirt of Sirius' from when he went to his first Weird Sisters concert as his pyjamas. "I think it's charming." 

Sirius punched him lightly in the chest, right over the lead singer's face printed on the shirt. "You think everything Regulus does is far more interesting than it really is." Sirius narrowed his eyes at him. "You can't fix him." 

"Well—" It was probably one of those times when Sirius and James were talking, but the words they were saying didn't really mean what they seemed to. When they were having different conversations, but it was actually about the same thing.

"You can't fix people, James." 

Big brown eyes looked at him from behind his glasses. "But maybe I can fix him." Regulus.

Sirius was ignoring it. He was ignoring the lingering looks James gave his brother and the glances Regulus shot James when he thought no one was watching. He was ignoring it because what else could he do? He couldn't confront them about something that hadn't even happened. But he could feel it creeping in, the sense that something was about to go awry. He'd known it the moment he saw James and Regulus in the same room after years apart. He could feel it building. Sirius wanted to vomit.

But he had to trust that James wasn't that thoughtless and selfish, that he would think Regulus wasn't in the best place for... anything. His parents had died not long ago, and his life had been turned upside down. James would surely have the self-control not to burst Regulus' bubble... wouldn't he?

Sirius took James' glasses and cleaned the lenses on his shirt, as he was used to doing. Once they were clean enough, he put them back on his friend's face. He then stood up but kept his face close to James'. "If anyone could turn Regulus from a sulking git into an actually nice person, it'd be a miracle worthy of its own headline. But then again, you've always had a soft spot for lost causes, haven't you?"

And before Sirius could head up to his bedroom and do his own sulking about a certain professor, James, sitting on the sofa, called out to him when he set foot at the bottom of the stairs.

"You're not a lost cause, Padfoot."

Sirius was biting the tip of his pen, staring blankly ahead. He couldn't care less about his Advanced Art History class or Postcolonial Art History or exploring the relationship between art and society that Professor Binns was droning on about. At that moment, all he could think about was Professor Lupin, still vivid in his mind.

He could picture the tall man at the front of the lecture hall, his long fingers gripping hefty books, chatting about something dull in literature. 

Biting the tip of his pen again, his mind drifted to the rough texture of Lupin's cardigan. He recalled the way Lupin's hazel eyes had fixed on him, intense and curious, the carefulness in his voice, and how he had managed to keep his composure despite being so clearly pissed at him. A smirk tugged at Sirius' lips as he remembered the moment when Lupin's gaze had lingered on his mouth, the briefest flicker of something almost—almost—intimate.

Sirius sighed softly. The thought of seeing Lupin again and delving into this new fascination left him feeling both so eager and so frustrated.

He was beginning to feel that familiar tingling sensation—the same one he felt when he realised he could have whoever he wanted, the same one he felt when Kingsley turned his own date down because Sirius had shown up. It was the same sensation he had when he won a fight. 

There was nothing that got more kicks off him than fighting. Sirius felt that tingle every time he stepped onto the mat for another Hogwarts Fight Club bout. That was why he had devoted himself to uncovering every meticulous detail about the fight club: how to join it, how bets were placed between students, how more influential people, likely investors at Hogwarts, exploited the system to siphon off more money. All this he had achieved in his first year at university. And it led him to become the first freshman to win the illicit competition. The thrill he felt each time he started a fight, bouncing around and landing punches, was like an adrenaline rush, like snorting cocaine in the school toilets before geography class. Sirius loved that tingle, that excitement.

And now he felt that same tingle every time he thought about Lupin following him to the police station. How Lupin's eyes had lingered on him just a moment longer than they should have.

 It was with that feeling that, later at the Three Broomsticks with his friends, and spotting Kingsley across the bar with his mates, he immediately made a plan for the evening.

He had donned his leather jacket and a white shirt that was almost see-through, clearly outlining the shape of his nipple piercings. And he knew Kingsley had a thing for those piercings.

As Lily and Marlene argued about Dorcas, and Sirius ignored how James and Regulus were sitting too close to each other, he cast a casual glance at his ex-boyfriend. He didn't smile or make any effort to look approachable; he merely stared at Kingsley until it became impossible for him not to look back.

He knew how to play the game, how to draw Kingsley in, or anyone really. With every second that passed, he subtly adjusted his posture, letting his jacket fall open a bit more to accentuate his body. He tilted his head slightly, leaning forward just enough to suggest a private conversation that wasn't yet happening. When his ex-boyfriend smiled, Sirius didn't return the gesture; he simply held his gaze until Kingsley downed the rest of his drink and moved to a quieter part of the bar without his friends. Sirius knew he had caught him.

"Shift over," he said to his brother and James, barely glancing at them as he headed towards Kingsley. Sirius didn't chase after anyone; he was the one who drew people in. But he knew when it was time to make the person he attracted feel like they were in control—a false impression Sirius reserved for only a few.

"Evening, darling," Kingsley said, putting his arm around Sirius' waist.

Sirius really liked Kingsley. James had been devastated when they broke up before the summer, but Sirius knew it wasn't going to work out in the long term. To be honest, he wasn't sure if he’d ever work out with anyone—he was too complicated for that.

Kingsley was tall and dark-skinned, with a commanding presence that Sirius was obsessed with when they first met. And then he got to know him and his calm demeanour had seemed like the perfect match for Sirius—until it wasn't. Their relationship had struggled with communication issues; Kingsley would demand Sirius explain his feelings, while Sirius would accuse him of not giving him enough attention.

He would press Sirius to articulate his feelings, but Sirius found the constant probing suffocating. Kingsley would accuse Sirius of being emotionally unavailable, while Sirius would lash out at Kingsley's lack of empathy and his bloody calmness when all Sirius wanted to do was lose his temper and scream. They'd go days without speaking, only to resume talking as if nothing had happened. And Sirius was good at pretending nothing was wrong, perhaps it was a family thing—Regulus did the same. But while Regulus managed to keep up the charade, Sirius eventually snapped, making their break up all but inevitable.

But Kingsley was kind, funny, and very intelligent. And he had a gold earring in his ear. So eventually, even after it was all over, Sirius ended up in his ex-boyfriend's bed.

"Are you going to keep betting on me, King?" he murmured. Before their breakup, despite mingling with the Ravenclaws of the Fight Club, Kingsley always backed Sirius in his fights. That was one of the reasons Sirius ended up coming back to Kingsley. Had Kingsley been a Slytherin, Sirius wouldn't have given him the time of day. Discovering in his first year that the clandestine Hogwarts Fight Club was divided into four rival houses, Sirius immediately took a dislike to Slytherin. His distaste was partly fuelled by the fact that members of his own family had a penchant for betting on Slytherin fighters. So Sirius was decidedly not a Slytherin. Ending up in Gryffindor was, as far as he was concerned, the best thing that had ever happened to him.

"Now that I’ll have money to spare," he joked. "Of course I am."

"Did you get the job?" Before the summer holidays, Kingsley had been gearing up to apply for a position at one of the top law firms in London. Sirius could easily see Kingsley becoming a great politician one day, probably far better than Barty Crouch Jr.'s bloody father ever was. "I always knew you had it in you. Honestly, I'm not surprised," Sirius said. He relished giving someone an ego boost and seeing their eyes light up just because it was Sirius doing it. He took pleasure in knowing that this very sentence had sealed the deal for Kingsley, and he'd be ending up in his ex-boyfriend's bed that night thinking about someone else. 

Perhaps Regulus was right. Sirius didn't truly care much about anything other than himself.

Chapter Text

Sirius was about to commit murder. Because why the fuck was he listening to Rita fucking Skeeter asking him how long his little brother had been fucking his best mate? 

She clearly wanted to stir up drama between him and James—where on earth would she get such nonsense? How could she possibly make that up? 

He felt his eye twitch as she told him about how she overheard a conversation between Hestia Jones and Emmeline Vance about how James and Regulus had spent the entire night at the pub together, all over each other, after Sirius left. Apparently, in one of the Prewett stories, she'd seen James with his arm around Regulus. He didn't know if he was more disgusted by the thought of his brother with James or by the fact that Skeeter was such a bloody creep.

Then it hit him: the looks they'd been exchanging since he arrived, the conversation he had with Marlene about how James had told Peter, who then told her that Regulus had accidentally walked in on James and Lily having sex. 

Was it all connected? No, that couldn't be right. 

"They did look awfully close in the pub." His eyes snapped to Kingsley. 

"Do you want to fuck me here in public, Kingsley?" Sirius asked. "Why would you say that to me if you don't want to fuck me over?"

Kingsley pressed his lips together, trying to suppress a smile. "I'm seri-" he stooped himself. "I thought something was going on between them—"

Sirius felt a wave of disbelief wash over him. James and Regulus? The very thought made his stomach churn. 

"I take it you didn't know about that?" Skeeter's annoying, shrill voice cut through their conversation, making Sirius' shoulders tense. 

The thing was, with people like Rita fucking Skeeter, you couldn't show any sign of vulnerability. Those sorts of people were like leeches, and he knew all too well how to deal with them—after all, some of them were his so-called family. 

"I take it you didn't learn how to mind your own business," Sirius said, smiling down at her. "Really, Rita, is your life that fucking boring?"

"It's not my fault your best mate is shagging your little brother," she shot back. "Don't take it out on me."  

"Someone has to bring some excitement into your life, Skeeter. Must be tragic, living off other people's lives when yours is as dull as you are."

"And an interesting life is just hopping between blokes every night?"  

"Don't be jealous."  

"Don't worry," Rita said, a cheeky grin on her face.  

"I never do," Sirius replied, pulling Kingsley along by the arm. If he spent one more minute near Skeeter, he might've torn his own ears off.

Sirius continued walking down the street, Kingsley beside him. The Bloomsbury area was always buzzing with Hogwarts students since it was so close to the campus, and he was at the same time dreading and wanting to run into people he knew so that he could get more information about what was happening.

He crossed his arms and stopped for a moment, glancing around at the row of quaint bookshops and cafés that lined the street, the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air. He pulled a cigarette from his pack, flicking it between his fingers. Kingsley didn't smoke, but he casually lit up with Sirius' lighter.

"So, am I one of those many blokes you see every night?" Kingsley broke the silence, a teasing lilt in his voice.

"What? Are you into Skeeter slut-shaming me?" Sirius raised an eyebrow, smirking as he took a drag. He couldn't care less about what Rita had to say. In his mind, she was just another gossip-monger chasing her next high and he was far too busy enjoying life to be bothered by her nonsense. "Honestly, Kingsley, I've got better things to worry about than what that bat has to say."

"She's just jealous," Kingsley said, stepping closer. "You know how it is, everyone wants a piece of you, Sirius." 

Sirius smirked, flicking the ash from his cigarette. "Well, I can't blame them. I am quite the catch," he replied. 

Kingsley smiled and pulled him by the waist. And he really was beautiful. Whoever ended up marrying him would be incredibly lucky, and Sirius knew it wouldn't be him. Kingsley would marry someone with a solid, respectable career to match his own, and they'd have children who'd likely follow the same successful path. Sirius didn't fit into that picture. He wasn't even sure he'd live past 36—he always felt like the kind of person who'd die in some tragic, and well, in a way, spectacular fashion.

"I've got to head to class, but I didn't want to leave you," he murmured in his ear.

Kingsley was one of the most intelligent people Sirius knew. He could discuss political matters with the same wisdom as he could recommend the best spots for a late-night kebab. And Sirius knew him well enough to sense that he was up to something.

"Stop trying to take my mind off what actually is going on."

"I'm just trying to keep James alive a bit longer because you're about to go full Mad Dog on him, aren't you?"

Mad Dog.

He'd earned that nickname in his first fight at the Hogwarts Fight Club. Back then, he was the new kid, and everyone called him Pretty Boy. He had to prove himself, and when he thought he was about to lose the fight, he went completely mad, throwing himself at his opponent like a wild dog. It was almost like a blackout. The next thing he remembered was standing up, knuckles bruised and throbbing, with a helpless Slytherin lying on the mat.

Sirius smiled, taking a long drag on his cigarette, the smoke curling into the air, lingering around his lips before dissipating. Mad Dog—the name had always carried a certain raw, animalistic energy to it. But if he was being completely honest, he much preferred Padfoot, the name James had given him. 

"I'm not going to do anything drastic," Sirius said, flicking his half-smoked cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his boot. "I'm just going to kill him."

When they were little, not yet ten years old, and Sirius towered over Regulus, his younger brother would trail after him around the house. Sirius found it terribly annoying, assuming Regulus was only trying to wind him up. Then one day, Sirius came home from a business dinner his parents had dragged him to, and as he entered, he saw Regulus' face light up, beaming because he wasn't alone anymore in that giant, cold house. Regulus beamed because his older brother had come home. 

From that moment, Sirius swore he would protect his brother from everything and everyone, that he would never leave him. And, for a while, he tried. But then he went off to boarding school and forgot to ring his brother. He made new friends, and when Regulus finally arrived at school as well, he was too busy pulling pranks and tearing around with James. Then, one day, he left for good—and left his younger brother alone in that big, cold house with their distant parents.

Sirius had failed. He felt it deep in his bones.

He wouldn't fail him again.

The sensible thing for Sirius would be to wait for the day to end, find James and Regulus back at the flat, and calmly ask what the fuck was going on. Really think it through before making any rash decisions, and give them a fair chance to explain. 

But, naturally, Sirius wasn't one for doing the sensible thing. 

So, instead, he was now charging down his friends. 

"Peter!" Sirius barked, making him jump. "Out with it!" 

Peter looked up, eyes wide. "What's up, Padfoot?" 

"Have you heard about James and Regulus?" Sirius asked, barely keeping his voice steady. 

"I... I've heard some whispers, but it's really not my place to say..." Peter muttered, glancing around as though the walls might be listening. 

"You lying little shit. What do you know?" Sirius demanded. 

Peter sighed, casting another wary look around. "James told me this morning—they're, well, seeing each other. But honestly, I don't want to get dragged into this. I'm just a conformist, aren't I?"

Sirius thought he must've misheard. He blinked, watching Peter inch backwards until he was pressed against one of the statues of the Hogwarts founders. He'd cornered Peter after class, having skipped all his own for the day to track down James. But somehow, the sneaky bastard was never where Sirius expected him to be. 

"They told you?" he said slowly. 

"Over tea." 

"When?"

"This morning."

"And you didn't tell me?" Sirius asked, taking a step forward. 

"What was I meant to do? It's weird, alright? They were... touching and everything, like, you know, boyfriends." 

Sirius felt like he was going to be sick. It wasn't just the horror of hearing that his best mate had been all over his little brother, but Regulus... Regulus had just been through something awful, and it was hardly the time for him to dive into a relationship, as if everything was fine—as if Sirius couldn't tell from miles away that Regulus was only pretending to be fine. 

Taking advantage of Sirius' daze, Peter was already tapping furiously on his phone, thumbs flying over the screen. 

Sirius' eyes narrowed as he reached over and snatched it from his hands. "What are you doing—warning James? Traitor!" he barked. 

Peter jumped back, nearly tripping over his own feet as he scrambled behind the ancient statue. "Hey! I was just, you know... I don't know, I panicked!"

"Fucking cunt!"

"Sirius, I'm practically allergic to drama!" 

"Don't give me that, Wormtail," Sirius growled, holding up the phone. "What's on here? What are you hiding?" 

"Oh, please," Peter scoffed. "What am I, a double agent?"

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "If you so much as whisper a word to James, you can kiss your cut of my fight winnings goodbye," he said, handing the phone back with a calm smirk. "Deal?" 

Peter crossed his arms with a grin. "I'm your secret keeper, after all. You've nothing to worry about."

"I tried to find him last class, but Frank said the bastard had already left," Sirius said. "And I don't want him to know I'm coming because James Potter is as good at slipping out of trouble as you are at being a sneaky little rat."

"I just like to avoid trouble."

"Right, and that's why you're helping to run an underground fight club part-time." 

Peter grinned. "I don't know what you're on about." 

Just then, Sirius' phone vibrated, and he quickly fished it out of his pocket. It was a message from his oblivious brother, who had no idea that Sirius was going totally mental trying to find him—and especially James. 

Regulus was letting him know he'd be passing by Professor Lupin's office before heading to the flat. 

"I guess I've found them," Sirius said. Regulus had unwittingly given him exactly what he wanted. 

"Hey, if you're going to have it out with James, at least let me organise some bets," Peter chimed in, rubbing his hands together eagerly. "We could make some good pounds." 

Sirius rolled his eyes with a smirk. "You're lucky we met when we were kids because you're fucking weird."

Perhaps Sirius should approach this with a bit more calm and delicacy, especially since he was so close to Professor Lupin's office. But when he finally reached the office in the Department of English and spotted Regulus in the corridor, he just couldn't bother to try and be a normal person.

"Regulus! You little shit!" he shouted. "Where's James? Where is he?" 

"Not here, clearly," Regulus shot back, truly acting like a little shit. He was as calm as Sirius wasn't at that moment. With each request to keep his voice down, Sirius only grew louder. 

"Actually, let me ask you a question." 

"What's it, Sirius?" Regulus replied, clearly aware of what was coming. His brother wasn't stupid, he was irritating, but not stupid. 

"Are you, by any chance, fucking my best mate?" Sirius asked, irritation lacing his words. 

Regulus took a deep breath, clearly trying to keep his cool. Perhaps it would do him good to let out some frustration, even if it was aimed at Sirius. He was afraid his brother might explode at any moment, holding all those feelings inside. 

"Well, when you phrase it like that—" 

"Are you fucking my best mate?" Sirius repeated, his tone leaving no room for misunderstanding. It was a paternal tone he often used with Regulus without even realising it most of the time, but it was effective.

Your brother averted his gaze and then looked back again. "We haven't gotten to that part yet."

Sirius let out a disgusted noise, feeling his stomach churn. "What on earth—" He might commit fratricide. He might actually go to prison.

"Padfoot!" James appeared, panting as he rushed to their side. He placed a hand on Regulus' back, so intimate as if he were right at home. Sirius followed the move, not believing what he was seeing. "We can explain."  

We? They were already talking like a couple. We can explain. We like morning tea. We like crumpets and the occasional cheeky biscuit.  

"Wormtail already spilt everything," Sirius grumbled, his gaze darting between the two of them. "But I want to hear it from you."  

"Fucking rat, that one," James muttered under his breath.  

Sirius opened his mouth in shock, making exaggerated retching noises. "I cannot believe this. It's like incest."  

"Oh, please," Regulus grunted, obviously annoyed by the attention from other students who were now curious about the scene unfolding before them. 

Regulus hated drawing attention, Sirius thrived on it.

"What were you dreaming of when you fucked my best friend?"

Regulus laughed provocatively. "Believe me, you were the furthest thing from my mind." 

"Fuck you." 

"James already did!" 

"Alright!" James intervened, stepping between them before things could escalate further. "It's my fault, Pads, I—" 

"Sirius, what the fuck?" 

In a matter of seconds, Sirius had James pinned against the wall, his forearm pressing against his throat. His best mate remained as calm as Sirius knew he would, but he wasn't daft; he knew that if it came down to it, Sirius would fucking punch him. There was no one to hold Sirius back when he turned into Mad Dog. 

He looked deep into James' brown eyes, trying to read his mind, to understand what was happening, because not only was he apparently dating his brother, but he hadn't even mentioned it to him.

"You're fucking my little brother, and I have to find out from Rita Skeeter?" Sirius bellowed, his voice echoing in the hallway. 

"Padfoot—" 

"Rita," Sirius yelled, his frustration boiling over, "fucking Skeeter!" 

Was Sirius the only sane person around here and everyone else that was just mental? 

Was it acceptable in any universe for his newly orphaned brother to start dating his best mate, and for Rita Skeeter to know about it before he did?

James held onto Sirius' arm, his grip firm yet gentle. "Mate," he reiterated, "I really like him, you know?" 

"He's just lost his parents, and you think it's the opportune moment to jump in his bed?" Sirius snarled. "He's not ready. I have to look out for him, and I won't allow you to mess with his head just because you're bored now that you're not with Lily—" 

"Sirius, it's all an act!" Regulus hissed. Sirius turned his gaze toward him. 

"What the fuck do you mean?" 

And then that voice that hadn't left his mind sounded down the corridor. 

"What's going on here?" Professor Lupin appeared in the doorway of his office, looking shocked by the scene before him. Sirius still had James pressed against the wall, fists clenched, while Regulus stood nearby, his bag on the floor. "Everyone out!" he ordered, shooing away the curious students. 

Once the hallway was clear, he crossed his arms, fixing his gaze on the three of them. Sirius couldn't say a word as he felt Lupin's steady stare on him, there was something in that look that he couldn't yet understand.

"Good day, Professor. Pleasure to meet you," James greeted with a smile, despite still being pinned. "I'm James Potter, sir."

Sirius growled, feeling irritated and on the verge of punching someone, but something in his posture shifted with Lupin's presence. 

"Mr. Black, release him immediately," Lupin ordered. Sirius didn't budge, despite his mind racing. "Sirius, let him go!" 

He let James go. Lupin's voice echoing in his mind.

 Regulus frowned, watching him. "How do you know my brother, sir?" he asked, and Sirius averted his gaze as Regulus pieced it together. "You told me you hadn't found Lupin when you came here last week." 

"Well, he did find me," Lupin confirmed, stepping closer with his arms folded. "He broke into my office, prompting campus security and the police to intervene. He also made some rather… suggestive remarks. Threatened me." 

"I wouldn't call them threats exactly," Sirius countered, a sly smile creeping onto his face as he inched closer to Lupin. "Just friendly suggestions to reconsider certain decisions." 

Lupin raised an eyebrow, looking down at Sirius. He was so tall. "The police suggested I press charges," Lupin said. Sirius chuckled quietly to himself, listening as Lupin explained to his brother. "I can't accept your paper anymore since I've already closed the grades," Lupin continued, "but I'd be willing to offer you the chance to write another paper for extra credit." 

"Thank you, Professor," James said, rubbing his throat. "May we… leave?" He pulled Sirius and Regulus into a half-hearted hug, despite their scowls. 

"Was he attacking you?" Lupin asked, eyeing Sirius and then James. 

"Attacking? No," James chuckled. "I think you're mistaken." 

"Yeah, that definitely didn't happen," Sirius chimed in with a grin, sizing up Lupin for a moment. "Sir." 

He felt that same eagerness he'd felt outside the police station while Lupin's amber eyes looked at him. It was for a fraction of a second, hidden beneath the gazes of James and Regulus, but laid bare for Sirius. 

Lupin finally rolled his eyes, breaking the moment. "Just get out of my sight, please."

That was the most ridiculous idea he ever heard.

"That's the most ridiculous idea I've ever heard," Sirius said. 

James and Regulus exchanged glances. "It'll work," Regulus insisted. 

Sirius knew Regulus was just trying to convince himself. If his brother were truly sane, he'd never think that a daft plan to pretend to date James would be a brilliant idea. But he had to stop trying to fight all of Regulus' battles, he needed to let him handle things his own way, just as their parents had never allowed him to. 

So if he preferred to pretend to date James and use his influence to keep the rest of the Black family at bay, so be it, even if Sirius thought it would be far more effective to simply punch Lucius Malfoy in the face and knock out his teeth. 

"Look, since the gossip is already spreading, why don't we lean into it?" he suggested. 

James raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "How?" 

"We need to make it more believable. If I punch you, people will think we're serious," Sirius proposed, a mischievous smirk creeping onto his face. "Well, I always am."

James burst out laughing. "You're mad! You just want an excuse to hit me, don't you?" 

"You know it." 

Regulus, meanwhile, was thoroughly irritated with the pair of them, finding them utterly childish as if they were still in Year 7. He decided to take a shower after Sirius had punched James in the living room, leaving the two of them alone for a moment. Ever since Regulus had moved in, they hadn't spent as much time together, except for when they trained together. 

The punch was clean and quick, landing on the cheek to avoid hitting his eye and risking swelling it shut or injuring his nose and mouth, which could lead to bleeding. James accepted the punch as if it were nothing and then went to grab something to eat. 

"So, you spent the day running around Hogwarts trying to find me?" James asked with a smirk. 

"I nearly scared Wormy to death," he admitted, causing James to laugh. 

"You're obsessed with me," James joked. But it was true, Sirius had been somewhat obsessed with his best friend since the day they met on the train to the boarding school where they would spend the next few years. 

"Well, if Rita Skeeter starts spreading rumours about me, don't be taken aback," he said. "I may have called her a boring hag." 

James laughed out loud again, and Sirius forgot why he had been so angry with him.

 He was halfway through his cigarette while James sat eating pão de queijo that he had made himself. He was waiting a moment before placing ice on his cheek. The plan was to show up at the university looking injured the following day. 

"Do you think this is a good idea, Prongs?" Sirius asked, blowing out smoke. "I told you, you can't fix him." 

"But I can help him fix himself."

Sirius smoked. He liked the way the smoke wafted in and out of his nose, it had calmed him ever since he started smoking at seventeen. It had gotten more frequent as he got older, but ever since he received the call about Walburga and Orion's deaths, he had been going through more packs of cigarettes than usual. 

"You need to be careful with him and understand that he might not be careful with you," Sirius warned him. 

"Regulus is not a bad person." 

"No, he's not," Sirius said, "but he lived with our parents long enough to know how to keep his guard up. He will always expect the worst and act to protect himself," he continued. "You need to be prepared for that. He'll learn soon." 

"Don't worry about me."

"Regulus might hurt you." 

James looked at him, his cheek bruised. "It can't be worse than getting punched in the face." 

Sirius smirked, smoking. "You have no idea what it's like to be hurt by a Black."

Sirius had an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth as he tucked the motorbike key into the pocket of his leather jacket when he spotted him. 

At a table in the corner of the nearly empty library, the green lamp was on, books strewn across the surface, and a frown of concentration creased his forehead. Professor Lupin. Moony. 

He didn't think twice. He strode over to where the Professor was sitting, completely forgetting that he had come there to fetch a book on Psychoanalytic Theory for his Critical Theories class. He had entirely forgotten that he had a paper due in a few days on the subject. 

Plonking himself down across from Lupin, the cigarette between his fingers and a grin spreading across his face. He watched as Lupin's eyes lifted to meet his, his posture remaining unchanged. 

"Hi, Moony." 

"You can't smoke in here," he replied. 

Sirius glanced over at Madam Pince, the librarian, who was staring at him with a glazed expression, and his smile only widened. He exaggeratedly removed the cigarette from his mouth, tucking it behind his ear, and then waved at her, all under Lupin's watchful gaze.

"What are you doing here at this hour?" he asked. It was nearly midnight, and the library would be closing soon. The old library had an air of antiquity about it, with towering wooden shelves lined with dusty tomes, and the scent of aged paper lingering in the air. The dimly lit room was punctuated by the soft glow of the green lamps that dotted the tables, while the heavy curtains framed the tall windows that overlooked the darkening grounds. "Not everyone might appreciate the granddad vibe, but I mean, it's Friday night and you're here—dreadful, really—"

"I am a PhD student, Mr Black," Lupin replied, although his palm rested on the book before him, the ink pen he had been using lying forgotten on the table. "I'm studying. We're in a library, in case you've wandered in here by mistake."

"Still, Moony," Sirius persisted, pushing the point. "You could do with some company other than the library."

"This is rather inappropriate, Mr. Black."

"But we're not doing anything," Sirius replied, drawing his tongue through his canine teeth. "We're just talking, sir."

That silenced the professor. It was moments like this that heightened the tingling sensation within Sirius, when Lupin's mask would slip for just a second, his gaze drifting to Sirius' mouth. 

He was fascinated by the idea of Lupin. 

"Of course," the professor replied. 

"And to satisfy your overwhelming curiosity, I was looking for a book. I'd say I'm a proper student," he added, "you can check my records, Professor," he said teasingly. "If you manage to get past the mountain of detentions I've racked up at school, you'll find nothing but fucking excellent grades."

"Of course, you're intelligent," the professor said. "You're likely the sort who only needs to read the book once and then disrupts the rest of the teacher's class, aren't you?"

"You've got me all figured out, Moony."

"That's not my name."

"Alright, Remus."

"Mr Black," he took a deep breath. "Stop playing. Grab your book, and your cigarette, and get the fuck out."

Oh, how that got to Sirius.  

Sirius looked at him in surprise and laughed in disbelief. "You are quite something else, Professor Lupin."  

He picked up the book he wanted, feeling Lupin's gaze upon him, and as he walked towards the library door, he placed the cigarette in his mouth and lit it, taking a drag just before exiting, leaving the smoke hanging in the air.

Sirius leaned against his motorbike in the low light of the parking lot. He absently toyed with the cigarette between his fingers, glancing at the darkening sky. The anticipation thrummed in the air and made him even more excited.

The night wasn't particularly cold, but a shiver ran through Sirius' body, it was probably the anticipation gnawing at him. Then he saw him—Lupin, emerging from the building with his hands tucked into the front pockets of his trousers. He was wearing a jumper, the soft, worn fabric hanging loosely on him as if he wanted to hide within it, which made Sirius all the more intrigued. He appeared casual, yet there was something in the way he moved that suggested a pent-up energy.

"Thought you'd left me for good, Moony," Sirius called, his voice carrying a teasing lilt. He pushed off the bike, feeling the familiar thrill as Lupin approached, his heart pounding in anticipation. 

"What are you still doing here?" Lupin asked, his tone edged with something between disbelief and irritation, though his actions betrayed him as he closed the distance between them instead of simply walking away. 

"Just waiting for a brilliant mind to grace me with his presence," Sirius replied, a cheeky smile tugging at his lips. 

"You're not in my class. Flattery will get you nowhere," Lupin replied, arching an eyebrow. 

"Flattery? I was just stating a fucking fact." Sirius' smirk only widened, feeling the exhilaration rise as he caught a flicker of amusement in Lupin's eyes. The corner of Lupin's mouth twitched, hinting at a smile, and Sirius' pulse quickened. He was playing with fire, and every second felt intoxicating. 

"Your reputation precedes you, doesn't it?" he pressed, his gaze never wavering.

"Thought you didn't know who I was before I introduced myself so politely." Sirius leaned in, voice lowering. "Did you... did you ask about me, Professor?" 

Lupin didn't back down, lifting his chin defiantly. "Had to know more about the mad student causing trouble, didn't I?" 

"And what did you discover?" 

Lupin's eyes gleamed with something Sirius couldn't quite place. "You wouldn't want to know," he said, lips curling into a slight smile.

Sirius felt a familiar thrill, that rush he usually only got right before stepping into the ring. He wasn't sure if it was because Lupin was his professor or if it was something unique that Lupin drew out of him. Either way, he didn't care, he craved that rush. 

"You know, when you first came on as a professor, everyone was talking about you. Bit of a sensation, I mean. A lot more interesting than Professor Snape, that insufferable git tried to have me kicked out twice." 

Lupin's expression flickered with something Sirius could almost call recognition. "Yes, that sounds like him." 

"Maybe I should've taken a bit more interest in your reputation, Professor," Sirius murmured, a glint in his eyes. 

"Reputation? I'm afraid you'll find I'm quite dull," Lupin replied, trying to keep his face neutral, though he couldn't quite hide the spark of intrigue in his gaze. 

"Dull?" Sirius echoed, tilting his head slightly, his gaze unwavering. "Not a chance. I reckon you've got some fascinating stories hidden beneath all that tweed." 

Lupin's breath caught, just faintly, and Sirius noticed his eyes flicker down to the small space between them before returning to Sirius' gaze. The air seemed to shift, thickening with a quiet tension.

"I wouldn't call them fascinating," Lupin murmured, his voice a shade lower than before.

Sirius was extremely aware of the small space between them, and how empty the sprawling car park felt. He leaned back against his motorbike, legs shifting slightly apart—Lupin would fit perfectly between his thighs. 

"Just to prove I'm a decent person sometimes," he murmured, "I wanted to thank you for giving Regulus another chance." 

"It was nothing," Lupin replied quickly, though he added, "Nearly regretted it after the little scene you two pulled in the corridor." 

"Maybe I wanted to get your attention," Sirius said, his voice smooth. "It's not every day I'm lucky enough to run into you for a little midnight encounter in the library."

"I- I only give my number to students if it's strictly necessary." 

"Who said anything about numbers?" Sirius replied, a smile spreading across his face. 

Lupin's expression shifted as he realised his misstep, and Sirius could see him recalculating, weighing up this charged moment between them. 

"Mr Black-"

"You wanted to give me your number," Sirius stated confidently.

"That would be inappropriate."

"You say that a lot." Sirius stood up, and as he did, he was inches away from Lupin. Only now did the professor seem to realise just how close he'd let himself get to Sirius.

"Well, this is inappropriate," he murmured. "I'm a professor; we should only be seeing each other in educational settings."

"We're on university grounds," Sirius replied, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"The car park," Lupin corrected.

"Good enough for me, Moony."

Lupin ignored him, glancing at the motorcycle. "You ride this?"

"Fancy a lift?" Sirius asked, the suggestion laced with a hint of challenge.

"Have a good night, Mr Black."

Sirius watched him walk away, that rush still humming in his veins. It was always there, a craving for something thrilling, something reckless. He'd spent years chasing it—through fights, racing down empty streets, anything to feel that wild surge. 

And now, Remus Lupin was that new, impossible high, a spark of something just out of reach. Sirius felt a grin tug at his lips as he watched Lupin disappear into the night, wondering how close he could get without getting burned.

Chapter Text

Sirius wasn't obsessed. He was obsessive. 

It was simply how he managed things – through sheer obsessiveness. So he wasn't obsessed with Remus Lupin, he was merely being obsessive about him. There was, quite evidently, a difference.

The only problem had been keeping it that way. He'd struggled with the idea of waiting for Remus outside the library at nearly midnight, under a full moon. So he kept thinking about him during his classes because it had been better than paying attention, even though it wasn't like he didn't enjoy art. The idea of having his own gallery one day, displaying his own collection alongside that of other artists, didn't make him sick, but the thought of university did. 

He couldn't stand the dull classes, the dull teachers, the dull schedules, and the dull rules. He'd liked art, liked learning about art from other cultures… on his own terms. Fuck university. 

He had no problem with not graduating and starting his own tattoo shop. During his first summer at university, he began learning and taking courses. He bought his own kit and practised on himself before working on Marlene. He was good at it. 

To be completely honest, he only got into university because of James, or more accurately, his parents. They were so happy and proud when he and James were accepted into Hogwarts, and after Peter was accepted, he just wouldn't leave his mates. So, he went to university, even though he didn't particularly care about graduating. Everything seemed awfully dull to him, especially after he got into fighting.

But Professor Lupin was there, so Hogwarts had become way less dull.

Ace of Spades started playing on the record player he'd picked up with Mary at a charity shop, and just like the music, his friends' conversation started to echo back in his mind.

"I would never shag a third," Marlene was saying.

"What the hell does that mean?" Peter asked. 

"I find the higher the number, the worse the sex," she said, as though she held a very informed opinion. "I went out with someone who was a third, and it was dreadful," she added. Sirius knew she was messing with him, but he wouldn't defend his status as a third. 

"Can you imagine how bad Henry VIII must have been?" Peter said.

"You give him head, he chops yours off," Sirius remarked. "Prick."

Peter laughed, continuing to roll the spliff for himself. He'd already rolled one for Marlene, who was smoking with Sirius, but Peter didn't like sharing his spliffs and always made one just for himself afterwards.

"What even is this topic of conversation?" Sirius asked, accepting Marlene's spliff and taking a drag. He was slouched in the black armchair in his room, his feet up the back of the chair, neck hanging over the edge, his hair swinging in the air. He hadn't had time to cut it, and it was longer than he usually kept it. "Are you really this dreadfully single, Marls?" 

"Oh, shut it," she replied, taking the spliff back. "It's just that I was talking to Alice after classes yesterday, and she was telling me that she and Frank want to get married as soon as they graduate, and then she started going on about kids—" 

"Kids?" Sirius overreacted on purpose. "The horror!" 

"Shut it! She was saying that Frank's mum wants him to name their imaginary child Frank Longbottom… the second." 

Sirius was a third. Sirius Orion Black III. He remembered before he ran away to the Potters how his parents had pressured him to follow in the family's footsteps, how he had stared at the golden ring with the House of Black family crest that his father used to wear, imagining it one day being placed on his finger. Like a fucking forced marriage. He didn't know if his father had been buried with the ring, but he would have thrown it away if he'd seen it.

"Peter Pettigrew the second," he said, carefully finishing rolling the spliff, his fingers deftly twisting the end to seal it. He held it up to admire his work for a moment, before taking a final glance at it. "That sounds cool."

"No, it doesn't," Marlene said. "It's the most narcissistic thing ever, naming your child after yourself." 

"James would do that—" 

"James thinks he's amazing, of course, he would." 

"And he is," Sirius said, reaching back and tugging on a strand of Marlene's hair. She laughed, punching him in the shoulder. 

"I love Frankie, but, man, I don't know about that mother-in-law Alice is ready to get hitched," Marlene commented, the gossiper she was. 

"I met Augusta," Sirius said, still sharing the spliff with Marlene while Peter savoured his own. "She's something… but she means well." Or maybe Sirius didn't have the best yardstick for deciding what was or wasn't a good mother.

"And your train of thought went from Frank Longbottom's hypothetical son to how people who are the second or third of their names don't know how to get laid," Peter let out a laugh.

"I mean, they're just fated to be awful, aren't they?" Marlene said.

"Oh, piss off," Sirius finally replied.

Marlene laughed loudly. "I went out with this girl once. Pete, I told you about her from sixth form,—"

"The one who faked an Irish accent?"

"No, the other one."

"The one who wanted to get her own name tattooed on herself."

"Yeah—"

"I'm a bit late, and are you threw puffing away?" Mary's voice came from the bedroom door.

She was wearing a thick, oversized woolly jumper tucked into a pair of jeans, with a warm scarf draped around her neck. Her boots, scuffed from wear, were perfect for that chilly October day. Just a few weeks from his birthday.

The Marauders' birthday party had become a highlight over their first two years at university, and now, in their third year, they had a solid reputation for throwing the best and most exclusive parties. Almost no one outside of the Hogwarts Fight Club circle got an invitation. The guest list was highly selective, mostly made up of regulars who attended the fights and the fighters themselves. It was like a club within a club. 

Some gatecrashers had tried their luck, especially rival fighters, so now they only revealed the party location an hour before it started, just as they did with the fights. 

And Peter, of course, wasn't about to miss an opportunity to make a bit of extra cash. At the last few parties, Mary had put together colour-coded guest lists, separating those who had to pay to get in from the friends they actually wanted there. 

His party was at the end of the next week, and they needed to sort out the guest list, which he was planning to send out a few hours before with the location and time. For that, they needed Mary—she was good at this—and Marlene, who knew everyone, plus Peter, who had all the contact details and knew who was and who wasn't paying their debts properly. They got a bit distracted when Mary mentioned she'd be running late.

"Mary!" the three of them shouted, grinning from ear to ear. 

She rolled her eyes with a smile and tossed her things into the corner of the room before plopping down next to Marlene on the carpet. "First thing, Amos Diggory is off the list," she said, pulling out the laptop they were using for the guest list. They'd only managed to get to three names—each of theirs—before Peter asked if they fancied a smoke. 

"Diggory's chill," Peter commented, his hand twitching slightly as the smoke hit him. "Why?" 

Sirius smirked mischievously. "Diggory asked Lily out." 

Mary shot him a glare while the other two burst into laughter. "He asked me when the party's going to be."

"How dare he?" Sirius said, shouting sarcastically, as he took a long drag from the spliff and let the smoke curl out of his mouth. "That fucking tosser."

"It's just that he's such an arrogant git." 

"Oh, if that's what gets someone crossed off the list, then I suppose the birthday boy won't be at his own party," Marlene chuckled.

"Yeah, Mary, I don't think that's the best idea," he said as she scowled. "Sorry, darling." 

"Fine," she muttered, scribbling Diggory's name onto the list. But since Diggory was a fighter, he was automatically invited. It was a rule of the Club: all fighters were invited to major events as a way to keep rivalries confined to the mat.

"So…" Peter mumbled, looking between them, "are we going to invite any Slytherins?" 

"Over my dead body!" Marlene yelled. "Fuck no!" 

"Yeah, like that rule is rubbish. Do we really have to invite them? They've been way worse this year," Mary said.

"Well," Peter shot them a pointed look, "whether you like it or not, Sirius' brother is a Slytherin now," he said. "He literally only bets on Rosier, never once on Prongs or Padfoot. He just hangs about with them too. I mean, he even turned Dorcas into a Slytherin." 

"That was more Marls' fault," Sirius clicked his tongue. "Lils brought her to our side, and she chased her off."

"That's blasphemous," Marlene said. "I don't have a problem with her! She's the one who got a problem with me—" 

Mary lifted her hand from the laptop keyboard. "Let's not get into this again, please," she begged. "I can not hear you talk on and on about Dorcas again."

"I don't talk about her, I complain about her!" Marlene defended herself.

Marlene's hatred for Dorcas was something that needed to be studied. Normally, Sirius loved getting involved in the gossip, but the spliff had left him too spaced out to care about the drama.

"I don't want to know, Marlene!" Mary pointed at her. "I'm starving," she muttered.

Sirius pulled out his phone. "What do you fancy, darling?" 

"Oh, I dunno… maybe a chicken tikka masala?" Mary replied. "Or a kebab."

"Kebab!" Peter asked, clasping his hands together as if begging, the spliff dangling from his mouth. Everyone knew that when he was high, he always craved a kebab. Sirius asked over the phone while Mary continued to rattle off names for the guest list. 

"Vance?" she asked. This was Kingsley's ex-girlfriend, the one he dated after he and Sirius broke up. They had lasted through the summer when they both ended up meeting in Brighton and since then, Vance, who had always been perfectly friendly with Sirius, hadn't spoken to him properly. Well, maybe it was because she wanted to get back with Kingsley, and Sirius had nabbed him again. But it wasn't like Kingsley wasn't using him as a rebound, and Sirius was using him as a rebound for… anyway.

"Vance and Jones make a cracking Sangria," Sirius muttered. "They're in."

Mary went quiet for a moment, eyeing Sirius. He straightened in his armchair, having nicked the last of the spliff from Peter, who was too stoned to notice. "We've been through everyone," she said. "Besides your brother… any Slytherins allowed, babes? Or are we going to be breaking some rules?" she asked. This time, Marlene didn't speak, just stared at him, waiting.

"We're not inviting them," Sirius decided. "I'd rather take a beating than willingly share space with Dolohov, Mulciber, and their lot," he said. 

"You know I have to keep some level of impartiality," Peter grumbled. "Sybill's been an absolute pain." 

Trelawney had joined the fight organization in Sirius' second year and worked her way up alongside Peter, becoming part of the club's organization circle. She was… peculiar. And she definitely kept Peter on his toes. 

"Who let Trelawney into the club, for fuck's sake," Sirius rolled his eyes. 

"It was either her or Lovegood," Marlene pointed out. "She was the better option for votes." 

"Fucking hell. Let's send an invitation to my brother, and he'll know who he can and can't bring along. Whoever's with him is in."

"So, it's all sorted," Mary said excitedly. "Oh, how I love making lists and crossing people off. Honestly, PR is just about making things happen and making them look good while you're at it," she explained, a grin forming as she pushed her hair out of her face. "It's like when you're planning an event—you've got to know how to market it, who to invite, how to manage the chaos, and make sure everyone walks away thinking it was the best night ever."

Sirius watched as she practically buzzed with excitement. "You're so clever, M," he said. "And so gorgeous. Marry me, please." 

"I thought you'd never ask," Mary laughed, throwing herself into his lap. She planted a loud kiss on his cheek. 

"Where's the bloody kebab?" Peter yelled, flopping face-down onto Sirius' bed, his phone clutched in his right hand.

 "I'll send you the final list later," Mary said as Marlene threw herself onto Peter's back on the bed. "But I don't think there's anyone else you want to invite, is there?" 

Sirius grinned.

Sirius punched the bloke in front of him in the face, thinking about Remus Lupin. 

That high that fighting gave him was only half filling him, because the other half he was thinking about the professor with an elbow patch and a pile of books on his desk in the library.

He didn't fight with skill or dexterity, no, Sirius fought with strength. He didn't study movements to know where to hit best or how to hit best, he just punched and kicked anything he could. He ducked as a kick sailed past his head, the air whooshing with the force of it. He laughed at how his adversary missed. Without missing a beat, Sirius swung his body forward, his fist connecting with the other bloke's nose with a sickening thud. Feeling high, he listened to the satisfying spray of blood splattering across the mat.

"Come on, big lad," Sirius leaned down, his face close to Bentham Aubrey, who had fallen. "Don't give up now, I'm sure you can still finish."

With a loud growl, Aubrey lunged at him, tackling him and trying to land a hit. Sirius grinned, kicking him in the chest with both feet, sending him stumbling backwards. But, filled with rage, Aubrey charged once more as they both got to their feet.

Sirius laughed when he got hit in the face, and blood began to trickle down the corner of his mouth. He stuck his tongue out, still laughing. "Are you mad? Are you mad?"

He cocked his head, watching Aubrey's bloodied face. And the man stared back. He loved that look, the one full of pure hatred that they gave when they were about to lose a fight. It wasn't just anger from taking a beating; it was the knowledge that defeat was inevitable. 

And that sent Sirius into a frenzy. But nothing thrilled him more than hearing the crowd chanting, "Mad Dog! Mad Dog! Mad Dog!" 

He jumped up and down, shaking his wrists, as he watched Aubrey try to close the distance, desperate to do something to avoid losing. Sirius saw his foot move forward, and he swiftly dodged to the left, landing a vicious cross to the jaw that sent the brown-haired boy staggering on his feet.

Sirius howled, running around the mat and pointing at the crowd, their voices roaring in the dim, smoke-filled basement. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, alcohol, and cheap cigars. Shouts and chants echoed off the stone walls and went right through Sirius' ears. As soon as Aubrey straightened up, Sirius, already growing a bit bored of him, hammered a punch into his face so hard that his head snapped to the side, and he collapsed to the ground.

The crowd erupted even louder, their cheers echoing through the room as money and smoke swirled in the air. Some people tossed drinks over each other's heads, shouting for more fights.

Sirius spotted Peter climbing up onto the mat, grinning from ear to ear after making a small fortune betting on him. As his friend raised his arm in victory, Sirius howled again and pointed to the crowd, where James was already pointing right back at him. 

"Padfoot!" James yelled, and Sirius punched himself with both fists in the chest and howled one last time.

"You're my man, Pads," Peter said, pulling him by the neck. 

Sirius laughed, still tasting blood in his mouth. "Didn't you say that to James a few weeks ago?" 

"Details. I fucking love you both." Peter planted a kiss on Sirius' forehead.

"You just fucking love money, Wormy." 

"That too." They both laughed, and Sirius threw his arm around his friend's shoulder as they walked off the mat together. Peter passed him his black shirt, and Sirius grabbed it, wiping a bit of the sweat from his hair.

"You know," he looked his mate in the eye, "If you like to gamble, I tell you, I'm your man," he sang, and Peter tried to escape, but he grabbed him by the shoulders, bouncing along and pushing him. "You win some, lose some," he went on. "It's all the same to me– come on, Wormy!" 

"I don't share your greed," Peter sang, counting the money he'd already collected. Sirius howled, continuing to pull his friend through the basement. "The only card I need–" 

"Is the Ace of Spades," Sirius belted out. Peter joined in, "The Ace of Spades."

As they approached their friends, Sirius overheard James laughing and saying to his younger brother, "Oh, I love it when you talk dirty to me." 

"You disgust me," Dorcas replied. 

"Same," Sirius chimed in from behind, arms crossed. His slightly messy pigtails and the sweat drying on his skin were nothing compared to the discomfort of hearing his best mate flirt with his brother. Peter stood beside him, counting money, seemingly unfazed by their conversation but focused on tallying up his earnings. 

"But they are kind of disgustingly cute, though," Dorcas added, giving him a wink.

"Dorcas, I rather like you," Sirius said, pulling his shirt over his sweaty body. The blood from Aubrey was still on his hands, as well as the slowly drying blood running down his chin. "Don't make me change my mind, darling." 

"I'll be on my best behaviour," Dorcas replied with a sweet smile. "I want to be invited to your birthday bash, after all." Sirius couldn't help but grin at her charm, but the moment was short-lived. 

"Your face is annoying," Regulus said, aiming the jab at Sirius, who bristled with annoyance. How could Regulus be so different from when they were younger, yet still so terribly the same? Back when they were really young, before boarding school, Regulus had been a tiny little thing following him around, but as he grew, he became an annoying little thing. 

"Your face is annoying," Sirius shot back, mimicking him. It was childish, but he'd be damned if he let his little brother have the last word.

"Don't worry, Cas," Regulus replied smoothly, turning his attention to Dorcas. "You're going. I can invite whoever I want." 

"Says who?" Sirius demanded. His brother's confidence was infuriating because the little git was right. 

"James," Regulus replied with a smile, lifting his head to plant a kiss on James' cheek. Sirius watched as James' smirk only widened, and he felt the familiar twist of frustration in his stomach. He was going to kill them. 

"You know I can't say no to my boyfriend," James said, one hand dramatically pressed to his chest while his other arm remained wrapped around Regulus' waist, holding him close. The sight made Sirius' insides churn. He could see right through them, right through the scheme they thought they were so clever with. That whole fake-dating nonsense would backfire so brilliantly. 

"You've barely dated," Sirius snapped, his irritation breaking through. "You've been going out for, what, two hours?" It was bad enough having his brother—fake—dating his friend but seeing Regulus and James being affectionate in public was a whole different kind of torment. James and Regulus usually kept to their own corners at home, and Sirius had managed to tolerate it. Out here, though, it was harder to ignore. 

"A week and a day, actually," James corrected, sounding entirely too smug. 

Regulus leaned back against his chest, his face softening with a smile that felt so out of character it made Sirius' eye twitch. "The happiest week and a day of my life," he said in a saccharine tone that made Sirius want to gag. 

"It could be worse, Sirius," Dorcas said, her voice breaking through his irritation. "They could be snogging all the time in public. They're cute, but I haven't seen any nasty snogging." 

Sirius was about to argue, but James cut in with that infuriating grin. 

"Why would we give a show for free?" James teased, and Sirius let out a groan, rolling his eyes as he tried to suppress the urge to shout. They were going to drive him insane.

Before Sirius could slowly succumb to death, Marlene sowed up and jumped onto his back, excited about the fight. Sirius let out a hearty laugh, spinning around to face her, his eyes bright with amusement.

"And Padfoot wins again!" she cackled. They were now through the basement door, and Peter's girlfriend had arrived as well. Bertha Jorkins threw her arms around his neck and he kissed her plump cheeks.

"When will I not win?" he joked.

"I hope we make it to the finals together," she said, peering over his shoulder. "Don't tell James," she added, "but I want to beat the crap out of you only. He would be jealous."

"Game on, McKinnon." He let her slide off his back, but before he could fully turn around, she'd already punched him in the shoulder from behind. Laughing, he spun around to play-fight with her. He noticed Peter filming them and stuck his tongue out at the camera before trying to grab Marlene around the neck.

"Careful, she's a girl, you brute!" Jorkins yelled.

Sirius and Marlene stopped, slowly letting go of each other, and then exchanged glances before bursting out laughing. Sirius took the opportunity to slip his arm around her waist and throw her over his shoulder.

"Careful, I am a lady!" Marlene laughed.

"Yes, you are," Peter agreed, trailing after them out of the basement and pulling Jorkins along. "And you can also knock people out."

"Indeed. Both of those facts can absolutely coexist, Jorkins," Marlene shot back to the girl behind them.

"A'right. A'right," Jorkins chuckled, her tone thick with the familiar drawl of the north.

They laughed as they strolled across the lawn outside the Department of Nursing's room. Nearly everyone had already cleared off, and the night lights from the lampposts cast a glow over the empty grounds. The air was crisp, with a faint chill that carried the scent of damp pavement and the distant hum of a car or something else. Above, the sky was a deep shade of navy, with only a few stars breaking through the haze of city lights. 

When his brother was in France, Sirius would look at the stars and the London sky, wondering if it was the same sky his brother was seeing, wondering if in some way they were together. 

He glanced back and saw the Prewett brothers locking up, and by morning, the cleaning crew would come in to tidy up the chaos. The fight club had a properly organised system, thanks to all the years it had run smoothly in the underground at Hogwarts. A select group of students were part of the circle that kept everything in order after each match. They were one of the groups that pocketed a share of the betting taken from the matches.

"Come on, Peter," Marlene urged, still leaning over Sirius' shoulder. "You're lagging behind!" 

"I'm not exactly a speedster, Marlene, you know that—" 

"Don't worry, Peter," Sirius chimed in with a grin. "I'm sure your hairline's just taking its time to catch up with the rest of you."

Peter scoffed, but before he could snap back, a shout rang out from the end of the street where James' car was parked.

Sirius slowly dropped Marlene to the ground and whipped his head towards the sound, his eyes widening in disbelief. What he saw in front of him made his blood boil with rage. Lucius fucking Malfoy—of all people—was lunging at his brother, landing a punch to his face, a weak one, but still a punch. Before he could process it, James had slammed Malfoy into a car with a crash that echoed down the street.

"Oh, bugger," Peter muttered, his voice tinged with shock.

"No, no, Sirius—" Marlene started, her voice panicked, but it was too late. With a roar of fury, Sirius was already sprinting towards his brother and best mate, every muscle in his body screaming to get to them.

"Padfoot, no!" Peter shouted, but Sirius was unresponsive to everything but the fire raging in his chest.

He tore past Lily and Mary, who stood frozen in shock and was just about to reach Dorcas, who was desperately trying to calm James down, when he felt arms wrap around his waist, yanking him back. His back collided with Marlene's chest, but it did nothing to slow the storm brewing inside him. He kicked and struggled, his anger surging like a tidal wave.

He saw the blood streaming from his brother's nose and James landing punch after punch on Lucius' face. Sirius was nearly free of Marlene's grip when Peter and Mary arrived, holding him back by the legs he was kicking furiously. 

"Let me go, let me fucking go," he shouted, thrashing about, desperate to break free. He wanted to get his hands on Lucius, wanted to wrap his fingers around that prick's neck. 

"Sirius, you need to learn to control yourself!" Mary shouted, breathless from the effort of trying to hold him. 

"Your friends are mental, Pete," he heard Jorkins say. 

"Shut the fuck up, Bertha," Marlene snapped, also gasping for air. 

"I'm going to get that dickhead," Sirius growled, his voice low and furious. 

"Like hell, you will," Marlene shot back. 

Lily had joined Dorcas, and both of them were trying to make James release Lucius, but the grip James had on him was so strong. His anger was all-consuming, but amidst it, he could make out Narcissa, his cousin, screaming, and Bellatrix laughing like the madwoman she was. 

"Fucking bitch, what are you doing here?" 

"Eat shit, you little treacherous bastard," Bellatrix sneered, charging at him, but Narcissa stepped in front of her, blocking her path.

Sirius began to struggle so violently that the Prewett brothers rushed over to help restrain him. When it seemed like they weren't going to manage, Marlene shoved him forcefully to the ground, pinning him there and keeping him still. He couldn't watch, but he heard the sounds of the scuffle and then the screech of a car driving off with his cousins and that Malfoy prick. 

"I'm going after them!" Sirius roared. 

"Put Pads in Wormy's car and drive to the flat, I'll take Regulus," he heard James' voice, much calmer than he felt. 

"Are you going to behave, Sirius?" Fabian asked, coming into view. 

Sirius glared at the redhead, feeling an intense surge of anger. "Piss off, you ginger prat!"

Sirius was on the balcony, curled up in a blanket on a comfortable outdoor sofa, his legs drawn up to his chest. He had been placed there to keep him from running off after his family, as he would have done if left unsupervised. 

His friends were still inside the flat, it was two in the morning and they'd probably be leaving soon, but Sirius thought it best to stay outside and cool off. 

He was so angry. He was angry all the time lately. And there was nothing he could do about it because who he was really angry at… was fucking dead.

He had so much anger bottled up, and he didn't want to feel it—not at all—because it made it seem like he cared. That he still cared about his parents' opinions and expectations, and the fact that they had never been decent parents. He felt so much anger towards them, but deep down, he wished he could feel nothing at all.

It was easy to admit to himself that he didn't really care that his parents had passed away—not in a cold, psychotic way, but in a way that meant it simply didn't impact his life, and he was alright with that. If it were up to him, he would never see his parents again in this life, and now he truly wouldn't. But what did matter to him was that he had nowhere to put all the anger he felt because of them, and now they were gone, leaving two slightly traumatised sons behind. And traumatised he was. Sirius had given therapy a go a few times, but Regulus? He couldn't imagine his brother opening up to someone he trusted, let alone a stranger.

And, oh, Regulus was traumatised. 

It showed in the way he acted, in the way he spoke. In the way he buried his emotions deep and kept going on, but Sirius could always see through him. 

Sometimes, Sirius would get up in the middle of the night and go to Regulus' door. It was always locked, because that was the way his brother was, while Sirius slept with his own door wide open. But just touching the doorknob and feeling it firmly closed gave him a strange sense of calm, knowing his brother was there. Regulus was right there with him, and not 290 miles away.

So he was angry. And he was so fucking angry for his little brother.

The sliding door opened and Mary sat down beside him. He lifted his arm, and she slid under the duvet with him, settling in with his arm around her shoulders.

Sirius had a special thing with each of his friends, he would say. Well, he loved them. First James and Peter came along and saved him from the loneliness he felt, before he only had his brother and cousins ​​as friends and then James came along and brightened his life in a way no one else had ever done and Peter was just as amazing. Then Peter introduced Marlene who introduced Lily and more and more he discovered that whatever was going on in his parents' house when he was a teenager, it wasn't true love. And when Mary came along it all just felt so fucking right. 

He had a lot of other friends and was kind of obsessed with each one. But this little group they formed… they were everything. 

He could ring Mary in the middle of the night for reflective conversations, just to ramble about his or her thoughts. Their bond was so full of mutual understanding, almost a quieter relationship compared to the one he had with Marlene, who was so much like him. Mary was fun and lively, but she had a calmness about her and felt everything so deeply.

"You get so mad sometimes, Sirius," she murmured. 

"Mind if I have a smoke?" he asked. Mary never smoked, the most he'd ever seen her do was have a quick drag on a spliff at a party after a drink, but other than that, she didn't smoke, let alone cigarettes. 

"Just blow the smoke the other way, will you?" 

He took the pack of cigarettes and lighter from his jeans pocket, lit one up, and blew the smoke away from Mary. 

"I am angry," he admitted after a moment in silence. But Sirius was Sirius, and if he could take anything seriously at that moment, he wouldn't. "Not as much as you must be with yourself." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"James and Lily haven't been together for a very long time—" 

"He was with her at the beginning of the term—" 

"They were fucking, that's different," he pointed out. 

"You know everything, don't you, Sirius?" 

"I know James and Lily aren't together, and you still haven't made a move on her, even though you like her… how long has it been?" he asked, but Mary didn't answer. "You know I just want you to be happy." 

"I know," she said. "And alright, being with Lily would make me happy, but romantic love isn't everything, you know? I love you, and I love her, and I love our friendships. If that was all I had for the rest of my life, I'd be happy." 

"But you'd be happier if you were with her," he murmured, "romantically."

"And you'd be happier if your best mate wasn't shagging your little brother," she said. 

"Low blow, McDonalds!"

"Oh, come off it," Mary laughed and rested her head on his shoulder. There was never a time when Sirius felt more at ease than when he was with his mates. He rested his head on hers. 

"So, how did your test go in Crisis Communication class?" he asked. She laughed and told him all about it.

Sirius took a long sip of tea and looked him straight in the eye. "Go on, Regulus. How are you feeling today?" His voice was calm and focused, completely impartial.

Regulus shot him the dirtiest look imaginable, one eyebrow raised in disbelief. "What the fuck?" 

"I was merely wondering… could you tell me a bit about what's been occurring in your life recently?" Sirius continued, a bit tentatively, as he delicately sprinkled a bit of cinnamon on his Brioche French Toast.

"Occurring in my life? I literally live with you—you are in my life—" 

"I mean, what's been weighing on your mind lately? Have you been feeling more stressed, anxious, or down than usual?" 

Regulus' eyes widened. "Are you—are you therapeutising me?"

"I was just asking a question, Reggie." 

"You're trying to psych me out!" Regulus pointed out, dramatically letting go of his mug, which clattered against the table as he threw his hands up. His expression was one of exaggerated disbelief. And honestly, Sirius was the one always accused of being dramatic? Unfair.

"I simply want to know what's going on in that little head of yours." 

"Well, stop," Regulus held up his palm, "whatever this is." 

"Don't be so defensive, it could help to talk about it—" 

"You study art and skip half your lectures. I think I'm perfectly fine not taking therapy advice from you."

"First, fuck you," Sirius said, pointing his mug of tea at his brother. "Second, fuck you, you insufferable little arse."

"Good morning!" James strode into the kitchen with a broad grin, his eyes flicking between the two at the counter. Regulus had his usual scowl on his face, with his tea left untouched in front of him. 

Sirius smiled at his friend and finished his tea. "Good morning, baby," he said. 

Regulus huffed in annoyance and Sirius' smile widened.

"Good morning, baby," James smirked, his tone playful. "Tudo bem aqui? " he asked, approaching them. If it had been anyone else, they would have approached them slowly, as if they were animals in a zoo and they were afraid to get too close to the fence, but not James.

"Tudo bem. Bom dia!" Sirius said, earning another huff from his brother. But what could Sirius do if he knew more Portuguese than his brother? Of course, he was going to use the fact that he knew more Portuguese than him to his advantage. His brother always tried to be better at everything, but Sirius was simply better at everything without even trying. Learning Portuguese had been challenging, but on one of his first visits with James to Brazil, at his grandparents' house, he already felt like a natural with the language.

"Why are we all telling each other to fuck off on this fine morning?" James asked, sitting down next to Regulus, which certainly didn't go unnoticed by Sirius. 

Sirius' eyes locked with James'. He held James' gaze, refusing to break it, until James finally looked away, an almost imperceptible shift in his posture. 

"Regulus is a dickhead," Sirius said, getting off the stool. He looked at both of them. "Good fucking morning, you absolute wankers."

Maybe Sirius didn't quite know how to talk to Regulus. They were different, their reactions to things were different, and well, Regulus was a twat and Sirius wasn't—there was that, too. So Sirius decided it was best to focus on something else that he had been obsessing over. 

He turned down the corridor into the Department of English, where he knew Professor Lupin taught Old English Literature I. 

Moony.

He'd hoped to catch Lupin before class started, but he bumped into Gideon on the way and missed his chance. Now he'd have to wait until the class was over to speak to Lupin. He'd found out from Lily, who'd heard it from Dorcas, that Regulus and James were off-campus—his brother was skipping class. It was the perfect opportunity to accidentally run into Lupin on university grounds. 

Then later he'd deal with whatever the fuck his brother and James were up to.

The corridors were relatively quiet, with Lupin's students already in their lecture and the rest of the students either heading to other classes or heading off home. He leaned against the wall, trying to listen for Lupin's voice coming from the classroom, but it wasn't that he heard. 

"Sirius Black. You around these parts of Hogwarts…?" a voice more irritating than Skeeter's sounded beside him.

He turned to see Gilderoy Lockhart. The prick. With wavy blonde hair, blue eyes, and blindingly white teeth, it was honestly a bit disturbing how white they were. 

"Indeed. And you are…?" Sirius asked.

Lockhart laughed loudly, a fake, exaggerated chuckle he tried to pass off as genuine. 

"You know me, silly," he said, eyeing Sirius up and down. "The word is you've had quite a few flings—though I suppose when you need a bit of attention, it's no surprise. But before you were with everyone, we had a bit of a tumble in the first year—"

"I must've been out of my mind back then," Sirius replied, standing still, utterly bored.

Lockhart stepped back, a smug grin on his face. "You know, you're not that good-looking," he said, which was clearly a lie. 

"I could say the same," Sirius replied with a smirk. "Now, piss off." 

"Didn't your mother teach you any manners, Black?" Lockhart huffed. "I just wanted to have a chat, catch up. You're a right arsehole."

"So I've been told," Sirius shot back, not even bothering to engage further. 

He couldn't be bothered to point out that Gilderoy had basically called him an attention-seeking slag. Instead, he just rolled his eyes.

"Your parents died, didn't they? Maybe that's why your looks have gone downhill—it must be the mourning. As for me, well, I'm simply the best there is, and I'm afraid you'll have to get used to that now," he said with a smirk. Sirius stood still, completely uninterested, barely acknowledging him. "Maybe it's that brother of yours putting some stress on you," Lockhart added, stepping closer to Sirius, his tone becoming more malicious. "He spends all his time with that Crouch, the nutter, so it's to be expected."

The mention of Regulus made Sirius' eyes narrow, his blood beginning to simmer. Lockhart grinned, sensing he'd struck a nerve. "Go on then, Lockhart," Sirius growled. 

"Can't imagine what it's like, having a brother like that. Must be exhausting, really. I've heard the rumours about him—he's probably a right dick—" 

Sirius' fist shot out in a blur, slamming into Lockhart's face with a loud thud.

Blood trickled from Lockhart's nose, his eyes widened, almost popping out of his head, before he let out an ear-splitting scream.

Sirius laughed, and Lockhart screamed even louder.

Some students passing through the corridor stopped to watch the commotion, especially as Lockhart was in a panic, screeching about his perfect nose, blood staining his hands. The corridor itself was a typical part of the university's Department of English, with tall stone walls lined with old portraits of past scholars.

"Don't be a wimp now, Lockhart, you shit-talking bitch!" Sirius shouted, raising his arm, ready to land another punch. But before he could, a strong arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him away effortlessly.

The scent of lavender and cinnamon enveloped him like a chest pressed against his back, and everything around him blurred into nothing. He caught sight of the arm around him, the veins standing out from the pressure it was applying, the blonde, sand-coloured hairs on the strong arm wrapped possessively around his waist. His breath hitched as the warmth radiating from behind sent a shiver through him. 

"Sirius," Remus' voice, low and just by his ear, sent a thrill through him, and in that moment, everything stopped.

He turned his face and looked up at Lupin, whose amber eyes were already fixed on him, standing almost a head taller. 

"Professor, this is rather inappropriate," he said with a grin, Lupin's arm still firmly around him.

"Suited to you, then," he said, not faltering for a moment. Sirius noticed a mischievous glint in his eyes that he hadn't seen before.

"I was just about to knock someone's lights out, you know. But for you, I'll make an exception."

"Save all that charm for the police," Lupin said. 

"How dull. I'd much rather use it on you."

"Sirius Black!" A deep, gruff voice boomed down the corridor. Moody appeared at the far end, dressed sharply in his police uniform."What have you done now, boy?"

He grinned, giving a wave with his slightly bruised knuckles to Lily, Marlene, and Dorcas, who were all peeking around the doorframe, their heads poking out to spy on Lupin's office.

Dorcas had been in Lupin's class when Lockhart started shouting outside, and Lily was in the department due to her interdisciplinary course in Law and Literature. Marlene, on the other hand, was just on campus and had practically sprinted over as soon as she caught wind of the drama.

The three of them quickly ducked out of sight when Lupin followed Sirius' gaze to the door. 

"I have fans, you know?" Sirius said with a smirk. 

Lupin sighed, shaking his head. "You're popular, are you?" 

"It's easy to be popular when you're good at everything. People love me," Sirius said, exaggerating.

"You punched someone in the corridor at the university, caused a scene that got the police involved, and, worst of all, disrupted my class," Lupin said, each word accompanying his steps towards the door of his office. He could see the door slightly crooked, the hinges damaged from when he had kicked it open. Lupin shut the door and turned to face Sirius. 

He crossed his arms, the sleeve of his white button-down shirt still rolled up to just above his elbow. Although more casual, his dark brown tailored trousers were a perfect match for his slightly scuffed derbies. He walked back around the desk to stand behind it and face Sirius. His tweed jacket was casually draped over the back of his leather chair. 

"You're happy to see me, then?" Sirius said. He watched Lupin's hands, palms flat on the table, leaning slightly forward. It would probably be more polite to look him in the eyes, but his gaze remained fixed on the large hands that had been resting on his waist just moments before. Beside Lupin's left hand lay an old Oscar Wilde book.

Lupin's hands were large, yet graceful, with long fingers, ideal for turning the page of a book. He could almost picture his fingertip on the edge of the book gliding along the top corner of the page before folding it over. His knuckles, perfectly in proportion to his fingers, were firm and defined, scarred with delicate, faint marks. The veins running along the back of his hands were just visible enough to make Sirius stare, tracing their path like a map. His nails were neatly trimmed, not too long, not too short, perfectly shaped, with the tips of his fingers slightly reddish. There was an almost hypnotic quality to the way his hands moved, the way they rested on the table right next to a green and silver 1980s edition of The Picture of Dorian Grey.

"I'm disturbed to see you, Sirius," Lupin replied, his voice low, almost playful.

Lupin walked around the table, and Sirius' gaze finally left his hands. He leaned against the desk, while Sirius remained seated in the chair in front of it. He picked up a bottle of cold water and then gently took Sirius' injured hand, placing it on his swollen knuckles. Sirius didn't flinch at the pain; he simply stared at the large hand enveloping his.

"The Picture of Dorian Grey?" Sirius said, his lips curling into a smirk. "You're such a literary professor cliché, Moony."

"Why? Is yer face more Alexandre Dumas? Maybe Black: The Story of a Dog?" Lupin teased. 

Sirius' eyes flickered briefly to Lupin's lips before he laughed. "I prefer The Wolf Leader, actually, Moony."

"Don't be makin' a joke about my name, now," Lupin said.

Sirius bit his lip in a smile. "I won't. But if you fancy leading me—"

"Yeah, this one's worse," Lupin interrupted, trying to hold back a smile as he checked Sirius' hand. The bottle he was holding started to drip. "You're actually a terrible joker, ain't you? How many ‘I'm Sirius' jokes 'ave you made in yer life, then?"

"Too many to count. I'm guilty," he admitted dramatically, "of making terrible, terrible jokes."

Lupin smirked. "I've got to get back to my class, we're already half an hour late," he muttered, "because of you."

"But I'll miss you, Professor," Sirius pouted. 

"You'll live," Lupin answered. 

Sirius fell silent and glanced around the professor's desk. Last time he hadn't gone through the door, but now he was inside the office, and it was just so Lupin. Books adorned the table, scattered in organised chaos, accompanied by mugs of tea and a few resilient plants. He noticed a napkin with the funny logo of the Leaky Cauldron, which was another pub a little further from the university.

"Why Dorian Grey? Are you just terribly gay?" 

Lupin's eyes flickered with a hint of amusement. "Stop being inappropriate," he said, though his voice softened. "It's an edition my mother made. She bookbound it when she was here in London, when she met my father, and she gave him a letter with her home number on it before heading back to Wales." 

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Your father moved from London to Wales just for your mother? He must love her very much." 

"Wales isn't some far-off world, you know. And aye, he does."

Sirius glanced at the book, then back at him "It's a beautiful copy." 

"It's my favourite book," Lupin's eyes met his. "I am a cliché." 

Sirius smiled, feeling the heat of Lupin's hand as it squeezed gently. His gaze lingered on the long fingers, now suddenly feeling every movement more acutely. He couldn't shake the image of those fingers running through the pages of a book, or the way they had gripped his waist—so tender, yet possessive. 

"I like your hands," Sirius said.

The silence that followed hung thick in the air, pulling Sirius' gaze from their hands to Lupin's eyes. He met Lupin's stare through his lashes, tilting his head slightly.

Lupin watched him just the same, his expression unreadable, but his voice was low, "Of course you do."

There was a pause. Sirius took a breath when suddenly the office door flew open, the hinges creaking loudly. His brother strode in, followed by James, practically on tiptoe. Just before the door swung shut, Sirius caught a glimpse of Lily, Marlene, and Dorcas peering in again, their heads just visible.

"Sirius, what the fuck?" Regulus spat.

His brother was so fucking dramatic—honestly, how did no one else notice that? 

"Language," Lupin reprimanded sharply, though his tone was more amused than harsh, a difference Sirius felt he was the only one there to pick up on. 

"What are you even doing here? In the Department of English?" Regulus demanded, completely ignoring the professor. "I've told you before, I can look after myself. You don't need to stalk me." 

Sirius stood up abruptly, frustration bubbling to the surface now that Lupin's hand was no longer on his. Regulus was completely wrong because Sirius was actually there stalking a totally different person.  "Oi!" he snapped. "You're so full of yourself, you know that?"

"Perhaps you should calm down," Lupin said. 

"I'm full of myself?" Regulus forced a laugh as if it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. "Right. Tell me, why did you punch Lockhart?" 

Sirius huffed, rolling his eyes. "He talked shit about you."

"What the fuck, Sirius!" Regulus scolded again, his tone rising. The way Regulus was looking at him like he was some kind of overbearing nuisance, made Sirius' chest tighten. But Regulus had no idea what it was like—how everything had changed since Lucius had punched him in the face. Sirius had become… obsessive. But Regulus seemed to take it as some kind of childish interference. He simply didn't understand that their fucked-up family wouldn't stay away for long, that he didn't want him getting hurt anymore. 

And then there was the whole issue with Narcissa's car door—a week spent filling it with dog shit. Sirius didn't even have a dog. It had been ridiculous, but it was just how things had spiralled in his mind. 

"Fuck off," Sirius shot back.

"Fucking language!" Lupin's voice was louder than both of theirs now, cutting through the argument with the authority of someone who'd had enough. "I don't know what family issues you two have, but the university is not the place to sort it out. And certainly not the place to resolve anger issues," he added, locking eyes with Sirius. 

"I don't have anger issues," Sirius muttered, defiant. "I simply don't hide my feelings." 

Lupin arched an eyebrow. "By punching other people?" 

"It comes naturally to me. I think it's rather charming." 

James snorted from behind him, and Regulus rolled his eyes so hard Sirius thought they might get stuck. 

"Black," Lupin called, his voice stern again. 

"Yes?" Both Sirius and Regulus answered at the same time, their voices almost perfectly synchronised. 

"Sirius," Lupin sighed, pinning him with a long stare. "Although everything surprisingly went smoothly with the police, you won't find it easy to get out of trouble with Dumbledore," he warned. "You'd better come up with a good excuse." 

Sirius flashed him a cheeky grin. "I'm the best at it." 

"I see," Lupin said, sarcasm dripping from his words. "Apparently, you're good at everything." 

"You already know me so well," Sirius said with a smile. "Thanks for the assistance, Professor," he added, biting his lip.

Lupin didn't react—his face was unreadable, with no hint of whatever had been going on between them—but his eyes stayed fixed on Sirius until he left.

Chapter Text

Sirius straightened his tie and ran a hand through his hair. He stood on the pavement of Charing Cross Road, glancing first at the crooked sign of the Leaky Cauldron.

The street was alive with the hum of late Friday night. Red double-decker buses drove by, their lights glinting in the puddles left from earlier rain. The air was thick with the scent of rain-soaked concrete, mingling with the aroma of roasted chestnuts from a nearby street vendor. The occasional laughter from pub-goers echoed down the narrow alleyways, mingling with the conversations of his own friends.

His friends didn't understand one bit why he'd chosen to have his pre-birthday drinks there instead of at the Three Broomsticks like they usually did, but since it was his birthday, they'd simply gone along with it.

Sirius made his own opportunities. He knew Lupin often frequented that pub, and if they just so happened to run into each other, well, it would be entirely fate. He had no real clue if he'd find the professor there, but he felt it in his bones that something about that night was different. He was turning 22, with plenty of police encounters to his name but no formal record, something he took a sort of pride in. And he knew that tonight would be something.

"What are you lot, again?" Lily asked with a funny smile. "A bunch of ugly businessmen?"

"We're the Kingsman, put some respect on our name," Peter said, adjusting his tie with a smug look.

James slung his arm around Peter's shoulder with a grin, his nose raised slightly. "You heard him, garota."

"It's our favourite film," Peter added, wearing black fake glasses, while James had his real ones.

"Right after Minha Mãe É uma Peça," James chimed in, mentioning his favourite Brazilian film. 

Sirius glanced at the girls. "I just think Taron Egerton's fit." 

Liar. 

Well, it wasn't a lie that he found Taron Egerton attractive. The real lie was that he claimed to be dressed as a Kingsman when, in fact, he was in full Dorian Gray attire because a certain brown jumper-wearing professor had said it was his favourite book. 

"Can't believe you insisted on taking the tube," Regulus muttered. 

"It's Leicester Square Station, Reggie, nothing to be scared of," Sirius said with a smirk. "It's hardly your parents rising from the grave."

"You're so crude, Sirius," Regulus huffed irritably, striding into the pub without waiting for the others. 

"What's crawled up his arse?" Sirius muttered to Peter, grinning.

"Probably the Northern line," Peter quipped.

James exchanged a look with him, and Sirius simply shrugged. With a sigh, James shook his head and followed Regulus inside.

They'd come from Stratford, where Mary and Lily shared a flat. Taking the tube cut the journey down to thirty minutes, compared to over an hour by car. But Sirius wasn't about to waste his birthday explaining to Regulus why he needed to start acting like a normal person. No, Sirius was far more interested in having a good time—and maybe...irritating his brother a little along the way.

Marlene threw her arm around his shoulder, dressed as Ken. Sirius had helped her hunt for each piece in the charity shops. She grinned, a slightly drunk look in her brown eyes. "Pre-drinks at Lily and Mary's, pre-drinks here… honestly, I might not make it to your actual birthday party." 

"You'll be fine, Marls," he said, grinning back. "We'll have a few shots, flirt with the older crowd, and then party all night." 

"Yeah, but why'd you pick this pub? Pete said it's not really our vibe. Bit… mature, don't you think?" 

"It's not like it's packed with pensioners," Sirius shrugged. "I just fancied a change of scene. Shall we, darling?"

The pub was dimly lit, with a scattering of tables tucked into shadowy corners. The furniture was all dark wood, polished to a dull sheen, and there was a faint haze of smoke lingering in the air. It was definitely the kind of place where people still smoked inside, and the crowd was noticeably older, exactly what Sirius had been hoping for.

He glanced around discreetly, trying to spot people in the darker corners, and let out a frustrated grumble when he didn't find what he was looking for.

He'll be here. He'll be here. 

Sirius tried not to fixate too much on the idea that maybe, just maybe, Professor Lupin would show up. It was a Friday night, but London was massive. He could be anywhere, or back at home marking papers like a proper grown-up with a real job. 

"Do you think I should get a proper job?" Sirius asked Marlene.

Her eyes practically popped out of her head. "Why the hell are you asking me that now? Want a little guide on how to act like a non-heir? What the fuck?" 

"You've got a job." 

"Exactly," Marlene said, gesturing to herself. "Not an heir." 

"Your parents are upper-middle class. They lecture at a uni—" 

"It's public!" 

"Oh, right," Sirius said with a mock eye-roll and a grin. "How could I forget?"

"I'm not loaded. I'm not a 'my parents gifted me a two-storey flat' kind of loaded, like James. Or a 'dead uncle left me a tidy little inheritance' kind of loaded, like you." 

Sirius paused, raising an eyebrow. "You were waiting to say that, weren't you, you cheeky little git?"

Marlene grinned. "Come on, let's get another drink, yeah? We can sort you out with a job another time, so you can act like a proper normal person like the rest of us."

"Excuse you, I do have a job—" 

"Yeah? Don't reckon punchin' people for bet money really counts as one," Marlene said, striding off toward the bar where their friends were already gathered. It was a day past his birthday and less than a week after Halloween, and naturally, no one else in the pub was dressed up beside them. Not that any of their crowd appeared the least bit bothered. By the time they joined, the group was laughing and lining up shots for everyone. "What even are you supposed to be?" Marlene asked Regulus as they joined the group. His brother was dressed entirely in black and didn't even look like he'd bothered with a costume. 

"Oh, we're matching!" James said excitedly. "It's part of my second costume for the night." He reached dramatically into a bag Lily was holding, pulling something out in a flourishing way. 

"Matching?" Marlene repeated, frowning. 

James fixed a headband with antlers onto his head. He turned to Regulus, who was wearing a pair of black goggles with round flashlights taped to each lens. 

"We're a deer in headlights," James said with a proud grin. "I'm the deer." 

"And I'm the headlights," Regulus added with a small smile.

Marlene and Peter exchanged an amused glance before letting out a joint, mocking "Awn," their voices exaggeratedly high, while Mary and Lily laughed. But Sirius caught the smile on Regulus' face. His brother noticed and turned to smirk at him. The little shit.

"You can't just match costumes with someone else, Prongs," Sirius snapped. "Fucking traitor. Is my brother really that good?" 

"Yes. Yes, I am," Regulus replied, completely matter-of-fact.

"Disgusting. Why would you tell me that?" Sirius demanded.

"You started it," Regulus shot back.

"And you finished it! You are sick!" Sirius hissed.

"You are sick—"

"Is that Professor Lupin?"

Sirius immediately turned his head, his eyes landing on him. There he was, Remus, standing near the entrance of the pub, speaking to someone. He was half-turned, and Sirius could see the curve of his neck, the way his hair fell softly at the nape. He hadn't seen him yet, but as if sensing the gaze, Lupin turned, and their eyes locked.

A smile that he couldn't hold back spread across his face. Sirius looked Lupin up and down, his eyes lingering on him, and he knew that Lupin had noticed.

"Regulus, say hello," Mary asked, and Lily nodded excitedly. The two of them were peering at the professor over Sirius' shoulder.

"I will not."

"Oh, seeing a professor out of uni is just so fascinating, look at him, existing," Mary grinned. "Go on, Reg, say hi to him. He's your teacher, after all."

"Absolutely not—" 

"Oi, Professor Lupin! " James shouted, waving like a madman.

The professor, looking resigned, said something to whoever was with him. It was a man with tan skin, dark eyes, and features that reflected his Asian heritage. He wore something similar to Lupin, very scholarly, probably a professor as well. Lupin touched his arm, and Sirius' eyes snapped to the gesture before the professor began walking towards them.

"Hello," the professor said politely, not looking at Sirius. "How're you lot, then?"

"Good day, Professor!" James said, "We're great. What a night, am I right?" He started rambling. "Fancy seeing you here!" 

 "Well, I usually come here," he replied. "Generally...actually, there never are any students about." He finally looked at Sirius. "I'm surprised to see you here."

"Change of scenery and all. Sabe como é, " James said, glancing between Lupin and Sirius. "Want a shot?" 

"How are you, Professor?" Regulus asked before the professor had to decline the shot offered by a student. "Sorry, you had to be bothered by the presence of students on a night out."

"Well, I'm bothered," Lupin joked, though his gaze stayed fixed on Sirius. His friends laughed, and Sirius' eyes dropped to Lupin's hands, resting casually at his sides. He caught the faintest flex of Lupin's fingers and his gaze darted back up, meeting Lupin's steady eyes. 

"I'm Lily Evans, sir," Lily said brightly, extending a hand to the professor. "I've heard great things about you from Dorcas Meadowes—" 

"Why are you still talking to that cunt?" Marlene interrupted. 

"Marlene!" Lily said, giving her a look. "Kindly keep that sort of language away from the faculty." 

"I've heard worse," Lupin said with a faint smile, clearly recalling the aftermath of Sirius punching Lockhart and Regulus sulking in his office about it.

"They are sorry about that," James offered quickly. 

"Don't apologise for me," Regulus muttered. He turned to Sirius with a raised brow. "Sirius, apologise to Professor Lupin." 

"I'm ever so sorry, Professor Lupin," Sirius drawled, his smile firmly in place as he watched him intently.

Lupin's lips parted so slightly, so subtle it was barely noticeable—but Sirius noticed, catching the faintest hint of him holding his breath.

"It's Sirius' birthday," James blurted out. "It was yesterday, but we're celebrating now. Halloween theme!"

"I gathered," Lupin said, glancing over the group's over-the-top costumes. "Well, I'll let you get back to celebratin', then." 

"Sure you don't fancy a drink with us?" Peter asked, giving him a curious look. "On us." 

"You just want to see if you can squeeze some Hogwarts secrets out of him," Mary interjected, flicking her hair over her shoulder with a smile. "Don't believe a word this one says, Professor," she added. "Mary MacDonald." 

"Professor Lupin," he introduced himself, though it was clear he knew they all recognised him from endless gossip. "And thank you, but I've got company and should be gettin' back to it."

Sirius glanced over at the man who had come in with Lupin, now settling at a table for the two of them. Lupin kept his social media private, and there hadn't been any framed photos of anyone like that on his desk in the office, so it was likely nothing significant… probably.

"Got yourself a hot date, Professor?" Sirius asked, his friends trying to stifle their laughter, probably thinking he was just being his usual self and taunting someone. But none of them knew his true intentions—well, except for Lupin.

"He's a colleague, Mr. Black," Lupin replied. "Professor Fenwick, actually. He teaches one of your classes."

"Does he? Never noticed," Sirius quipped with a sly grin.

"Sirius," his brother scolded softly, giving him a look. "Stop talking."

But Sirius was relentless. "Fenwick must be dreadfully boring then. You're far better off with us."

"Don't mind him, Professor," Regulus interjected smoothly. "He's never quite mastered the art of knowing when to shut up." 

"We've learned to tolerate it," Peter added, laughing as he nudged Sirius with his elbow.

"I don't mind," Lupin said, his voice calm and measured, "I did my work experience with Year Six pupils. I know how to handle a bratty kid."

Sirius held his gaze, a slow smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. "Well, I can tell you that I'm no kid ."

His friends burst into laughter, but Sirius didn't look away. Neither did Lupin.

"See you later, Professor!" James grinned, cutting through the tension and pulling their attention to him. "If you're up for it, you're welcome to join us for a drink."

"Cheers," Lupin said, with no real intention of accepting the invitation. He started to turn away but paused, his body half-turned. "Happy birthday, you ." 

Sirius met the amber eyes fixed on him and smiled. "Cheers."

His smile fell the moment Lupin turned his back. Sirius watched him walk away, the sound of his friends laughing and drinking fading into the background. His focus stayed on Lupin as he returned to the table and sat down with another man.

Lupin's shoulders were broad enough that they obscured most of the man in front of him. He was lean, but so tall that all his limbs seemed to stretch on endlessly. His long, slender neck turned back towards Sirius for just a moment, and he looked at him across the pub. He didn't wink or give any indication that he wanted him, but he looked at him.

He couldn't quite read Lupin. He was composed and professional enough that he hadn't given Sirius any indication of his advances, never allowing things to stray beyond their professional boundaries. But he was also just reckless enough to stir something inside Sirius—the way Lupin's gaze lingered on him a little too long, and how he flexed the hands Sirius knew he liked.

Something told him that Lupin was a lot more devious than he seemed.

"Alright," Lily said, pausing for a moment, "Professor Lupin's kind of fit, yeah?" 

"In a Brendan Fraser in The Mummy kind of way," James replied quickly. Regulus' eyes turned to him, his brow furrowed. 

"Right!" Lily agreed, excitedly grabbing James' hand. "It's the hair, isn't it?" 

"Do you think I could still apply for his class?" Mary joked with them. 

"He is not—" Regulus scoffed. "He's just… regular." 

"He could regularly rail me," Lily joked, already a few shots in, knocking back another as everyone laughed.

"Next round's on me," Sirius said with a grin, signalling for the bartender to bring more. He knocked back his last shot. 

"All the rounds are on you, mate," Peter teased. "And a few on James, too." 

"So bring us the strongest stuff you've got!" Sirius yelled with a wink, and his friends erupted into cheers, laughter echoing around the pub.

"Right away," the bartender replied, already reaching for the bottles.

Sirius directed his smile at the man behind the counter and glanced at the name tag. "Get one for yourself, too, Jasper. I think you've earned it."

The man with the big moustache, who looked old enough to be his father, blushed. Sirius turned back—and found the amber eyes right where he wanted them.

James grabbed the back of Sirius' neck, his breath thick with whiskey. "Happy fucking birthday." 

Sirius pulled him in, grinning so wide it made his face ache. "Thank you, mate." 

"You're my best friend— meu melhor amigo. Don't know what I'd do without you," James said, voice warm and a bit wobbly. "Papo reto, irmão."

"Probably throw yourself in front of a train," Sirius replied with a smirk as James started slipping into Portuguese, mixing it with English like he always did when he drank a bit too much. He already did it sober, but even more when he drank.

 James laughed, but then his voice softened. "If I wanted to jump off a bridge—right in front of a train—would you jump with me if I asked?" 

"Yes. Obviously," Sirius smiled.

Their foreheads were still pressed together. "Swear to God?" 

"Swear to fucking God." 

James beamed and kissed Sirius' cheek noisily before finally letting him go and stepping back. Sirius wasted no time, bringing his cigarette back to his lips, the one his friend had so excitedly interrupted.

James pointed at him. "You need to pack that in. It's bad for you, Padfoot." 

"Is it?" Sirius asked, smiling as he took a long drag. "Thank God." 

James laughed, shaking his head. "I'm off to round up the others. We've still got a party to get to, birthday boy." 

He stayed outside, cigarette balanced between his fingers, as he watched James disappear back into the pub. 

Sirius blew a stream of smoke into the air, caught in that almost-drunken haze—that sharp edge of something. Just enough alcohol to make him feel light, but not so much that he lost his grip on reality. He liked that feeling far more than actually being drunk. It gave him enough nerve to feel like he could do anything, while still being completely aware of it all. Probably not the healthiest habit in the world, especially considering how much he enjoyed it. It had started when he was sixteen, sneaking sips from his father's bottle of Louis XIII cognac—just enough to feel the edge, but not enough for his father to notice. He'd never quite managed to let go of it.

So he smoked. He smoked every day, so that he didn't drink every day. He needed something to occupy his mind and hands, and the cigarettes served that purpose.

He heard the sound of laughter and music coming from the pub, the door opening and then muffling the noise as it shut again. He turned, thinking it was James, but instead, he was face-to-face with Lupin. Lupin seemed surprised to see him there too, but he was polite enough not to pretend he hadn't noticed Sirius, so he nodded and stopped by the wall of the shop next to him, probably a metre away.

The night still had a damp air, despite the rain having nearly stopped. Only a light drizzle fell, making a few droplets land on his face and hair. He watched as Lupin lit a cigarette, one that looked like it had been rolled by hand.

"Having fun?" he asked, breaking the silence between them.

"Not as much as you," Lupin replied, taking a drag and watching the mostly empty street.

"It's my birthday," Sirius said, looking at him through his lashes, his head leaning against the wall. "I'm allowed to let loose, don't you think, sir?"

"Sir? Don't go starting that, now."

"I'm respecting you," he said. "Isn't that what you wanted?" he asked slowly, savouring the smoke and the way Lupin's jaw tightened. 

He was now fully turned towards Lupin, while Lupin remained leaning against the wall, his back to it, that small metre of space between them. 

They both exhaled at the same time, the smoke rising into the air, creating a haze between them. Then, Lupin finally looked at him. The smoke hung around them, but Lupin's eyes were so striking to him that Sirius could still see the intensity, the way he watched him—he felt like prey.

It probably only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like a lot more. The smoke thinned and he could more clearly see Lupin's eyes moving over him.

"What are you supposed to be, anyway?" he asked. 

"I'm Dorian Gray, sir." 

Lupin stilled, his hand faltering. The cigarette slipped from his fingers, dropping to the pavement with a soft thud.

"What are you doing here, Sirius?" Professor Lupin asked.

"I thought I might see you," he said simply. 

"You thought you might see me." 

"I wanted to invite you to my birthday party, you know, since you've been so understanding." 

Sirius took the small piece of rolling paper, already cut to make a cigarette, and stretched his arm out into the small meter between them. His hand hovered near Lupin. The paper, with the location and details of his party scrawled on it, felt almost like an invitation to something else entirely. Lupin took it, and Sirius stepped closer. 

"Come to my birthday party, sir," he said quietly. "It's a costume theme. You could wear a sheet and pretend to be a ghost. Or…you could be Basil Hallward." 

"You really have no limits, do you?" Lupin said, his voice a mixture of disbelief and something else. "Perpetually careless, aren't ye?"

"But that's what's charming about me," he teased. "And I've been told I'm very charming. Persuasive, perhaps," he added. From that distance, Sirius caught the scent of Lupin's cologne. "Am I persuading you to meet me later?"

"You're lookin' for trouble," Lupin said, his hand raising to his mouth, wiping a bit of the rain from his face. Sirius watched his long fingers move across his skin, over the scar at the corner of his mouth. 

"I think I've found it."

Lupin looked away, and once again, Sirius couldn't read him. Lupin didn't give in, but he wasn't pushing him away either. What did he want? 

"What do you want, Sirius?" 

"I want you to come to my birthday party. You said it yourself—you're a student at the university," he said. "You deserve to have fun. And, again, you've been understanding about my brother's situation." 

"I'm a teacher at your university as well." 

"How old are you anyway? 25?" 

"Older," he said simply, and something stirred in Sirius' chest. 

"How much older?" 

"I'm 28." 

Sirius grinned. "Still young enough to have fun, despite… wait—" He leaned in slightly, teasing. He reached out like he might touch Lupin's hair but didn't. "Is that a grey hair? Oh no, we'll have to stick you in a care home." 

"Still. I'm a teacher," he said, but his voice sounded rougher.

"No one needs to know it's you. Throw a blanket over yourself and come. Have fun. Or—" He took a slow drag of his cigarette, eyes fixed on Lupin's mouth as he exhaled. "You don't even have to tell me it's you."

Lupin smirked, a low chuckle escaping him. "Then what's the point? I thought you wanted to see me." 

Sirius' heart skipped, his words catching in his throat for just a moment. "I do," the words lingered in the air between them, "But if you just want to go and have fun, that's fine too."

"Are you worried about the lack of fun I've been havin'?" Lupin said sarcastically. "Oh, how considerate of you." He turned to face Sirius, leaning his shoulder against the wall, mirroring the way Sirius stood, and now they were so close, Lupin towered over him. "You're a very considerate person."

"That's me." 

"You really do care about your teachers, don't you?" Lupin's voice was teasing, but not unkind, a side of him Sirius hadn't had access to before.

"Still. Not my teacher."

That silenced Lupin, and Sirius smiled. 

They both heard the voices of his friends getting closer to the pub door. Sirius turned to leave but then stretched out the hand holding his cigarette, half smoked, towards Lupin. 

Lupin looked at him, then accepted it.

Sirius laughed with his brother at the sight of James dancing to 212 with Mary. He was giving it his all, and Mary was matching his every move, the pair of them jumping in sync, singing the song with the rest of the guests. 

The basement, tucked beneath one of the older buildings of the university near the Faculty of Engineering Sciences, was a labyrinth of low stone arches and exposed beams. The stone walls, cracked in places, were now hidden beneath layers of colourful lights and were packed with sweaty bodies, all jumping and dancing to the music with drinks in their hands. As always, the Marauders' parties were a success, and Peter would likely spend the day tomorrow counting up the profits from the guests who paid to be in. Even though it was his party and he'd bought most of the drinks, Sirius would leave all the money made from the event for Peter and Mary to split, since they'd organised the whole thing.

Sirius had his tie loosely around his neck, his suit undone, and his button-down shirt open just below his chest ,showing off his tattoos. 

He turned his head to his brother, who was watching James dance with a blank expression. The cheek, where Malfoy had punched him, was no longer swollen, almost completely healed, with only a slight yellowish tinge from the fading bruise.

"What's up with you?" Sirius asked, eyebrow raised.

"I'm partying," Regulus replied, still wearing the same blank look. 

"Yeah, right, you're such a big party lad." 

"What's up with you? Stop being a complete prat." 

"I'm not being a prat." 

"Yes, you are, all night," Regulus insisted. "Is this about the one-month anniversary of our parents' deaths?" 

"I couldn't give a toss about that, Regulus," he scoffed. "You're the one who can't take a joke."

Regulus fell silent, folding his arms across his chest, a habit he'd picked up when they were younger. When they were younger, Regulus used to keep flailing his arms about when he got angry, and their mother had always punished him for it. Over time, he'd grown accustomed to retreating into himself, making himself small. Sirius hated that.

"Is this about Lucius, then?" Regulus asked, his voice quiet but firm.

"Why on earth did you come up with some daft scheme to pretend to date my best mate instead of asking me for help?" Sirius snapped.

"Because maybe I don't want your fucking help," Regulus shot back, his tone biting. "Can't you understand that? I don't need you stepping in every time. I can sort it myself."

"I don't think you can," Sirius insisted, his gaze steady as he watched Regulus' fists clench at his sides.

Regulus glanced over at James on the dance floor, and as if sensing something, James had slowed his dancing; he was now dancing slower, his eyes flicking over to where Regulus and Sirius stood leaning against the stone beams.

Something had shifted since Malfoy and his cousins had caught them leaving one of the fights—something Sirius couldn't quite put his finger on. But ever since that night, he'd been keeping an eye on them, just waiting. He knew something was up.

Regulus turned back to him, meeting his gaze with a look far too serious for the moment. "Stay out of this."

Sirius paused. "Give me a hug, then. It's my birthday."

"Your birthday was yesterday," Regulus replied because of course he'd say that. But then his brother stepped forward, slipping his arms around Sirius' waist. Sirius wrapped his own around Regulus' shoulders, just like they used to when they were kids.

His brother released him slowly, studying him as if Sirius might bolt at any moment to handle his problems on his own. With a sigh, Regulus turned and made his way to the dance floor, slipping in behind James, who pulled him into his arms without hesitation. 

Sirius rolled his eyes, drained the rest of his drink, and tossed the plastic cup onto the floor. "Little shit," he muttered fondly under his breath.

Marlene passed by, jumping and dancing with Hestia Jones, when Sirius took the chance to nick the drink out of her hand. Before she could even start to complain, he'd already knocked back the rest of it.  It burned down his throat, and he longed for a cigarette to fill the void. 

Sirius loved birthdays—James', Peter's, Marlene's—he went all out for his friends, throwing surprise parties, and buying extravagant gifts. He didn't particularly care for his own, though. He liked the attention and the chance to celebrate himself, but birthdays at the House of Black were cold and so distant. Dinner with the family's relatives in the evening and a day that was always a quiet, empty affair. He never had his parents waking him up with breakfast and singing Happy Birthday like James said they did. He didn't have his aunt and uncle taking him out to his favourite restaurant like Mary's did. No balloons, no birthday candles. Nothing at all.

Having obsessive thoughts was both a blessing and a curse. Because every time he closed his eyes, every time he wasn't holding a drink, a cigarette, or didn't have one of his friends nearby, his mind would drift to Grimmauld Place. But he could always redirect it, letting his thoughts turn elsewhere. So he let his mind flick between Malfoy punching his brother and Professor Lupin's fingers wiping the rain off his face. Obsessive—not obsessed, he reminded himself. 

Those were the two things he couldn't stop fixating on—his fucking cousins and Professor Lupin. And, truth be told, he preferred spending far more time thinking about Lupin than about Malfoy and his cousins hassling Regulus. His thoughts about Lupin, at least, felt far less dangerous than the ones he kept having about what he'd like to do to Malfoy.

Being obsessive about Lupin was intriguing and reckless, but not dangerous.

He turned his head and came face to face with a werewolf mask staring straight at him. The mask was textured with grey and black fur, sharp white teeth bared in a snarl, and a pink interior to its gaping mouth. Its face had deep, carved lines giving it a weathered look, and the eyes were dark and shadowed. The ears were pointed and slightly bent.

Sirius' gaze dropped down the figure's tall frame, pausing at the light brown Oxford shoes before snapping back up to the mask.

The figure didn't move, but Sirius swore he felt it, felt him watching.

"Hi, Moony."

He set the plastic cup down, the last of the drink gone, and took a step forward, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"Scary," he teased, reaching out to trace his fingers over the mask's fur. 

"There are much scarier things," came the muffled voice, unmistakable with its Welsh accent.

Sirius stood up on his tiptoes, cupping the mask's face in his hands, and brushed his lips against the edge of it, his lips lingering for a moment.

"Thank you for coming."

"I brought this for you," he said, pulling a book from his coat.  

Sirius took it, the flickering lights of the basement casting shadows over the cover. It was an edition of The Picture of Dorian Gray that he didn't recognise, its textured black cover adorned with gold lettering that glinted in the dim light. Ornate, decorative flourishes framed a central motif of an empty portrait.

"You came all this way to give me a book?" Sirius asked, looking up with a smile. 

"I thought it might enrich your educational journey," Lupin replied. 

Sirius barked a laugh. "I love it. Very much a 'you' thing to do," he said. "From what little I know of you." He clutched the book to his chest. "It's a good thing you came, really. You might suffocate around all that old furniture and books back at Hogwarts, reading and reading." 

"That's not all I do." 

"Isn't it, though?" Sirius teased, reaching out to grab Lupin's sleeve. 

The werewolf mask tilted its head. "I should go." 

"You've only just arrived. Remember, you're a student too. You deserve the same stuff." 

"Going to illegal parties on university grounds? Which you conveniently forgot to mention." 

Sirius smiled bigger. "You could have not come when you realised it was here. But here you are, perhaps we're more alike than we imagined. Had any run-ins with the police?"

Lupin took an immediate step back. 

"Happy birthday, Sirius," he said, before turning and walking away, disappearing among the dozens of bodies. 

Sirius couldn't call out to him, but he started walking in his direction, trying to follow the werewolf mask, which towered above everyone else in the room.

It was crowded, the thumping bass of the music vibrating through the air, but people parted like the tide when they realised who it was, and Sirius weaved his way through the clusters of students, his sharp eyes fixed on the stairs. He managed to reach them just in time to see Lupin at the top. He was quicker this time and caught up with Lupin in the empty hallway near the Engineering Sciences classrooms. The corridor was deserted, and he closed his fingers around Lupin's arm.

"Lupin," he called, standing in what he knew was a blind spot between a statue and a room. The agreement they'd made that night with the operator of the cameras around the university—Mundungus Fletcher—was that between one-thirty and four o'clock in the morning, they'd keep the hallway clear. Outside of those hours, Mundungus would remove any recorded footage of students passing by and overlay it with footage of the empty hallway, so the cameras would always show an unoccupied corridor. "Don't get caught on the cameras, for fuck's sake." 

Sirius pulled Lupin close to him, practically glued to him, keeping both of them out of sight.

"That's inappropriate," Lupin said, almost automatically. 

"Don't be a prick," Sirius retorted. 

"You can't say that to me." 

"Oh, I can," Sirius shot back, a cheeky smirk playing on his lips. "You're not my professor, Lupin. Get over yourself."

Lupin lifted his mask, revealing his face contorted into a scowl. "I act nice, and you decide to act like—"

"Like what?"

"Like a brat."

Sirius didn't need to smile for Lupin to realise he'd landed exactly where he wanted. "I thought we established that earlier."

"Does it make you happy to taunt me, eh?"

"You're the one acting like you can't even be seen with me," Sirius shrugged. "So yes, it makes me very happy to taunt you."

"Of course, I don't want to be seen alone with you. You're… like that," he pointed at Sirius. "We're alone in the middle of the university corridor, and you've got your shirt open… obscenely."

"Obscene? I was just getting comfortable. And you're the one who came here," Sirius said, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "Admit it, you're enjoying this."

"Because you keep showing up everywhere I am. I thought if I—"

"Maybe I want to be friends," Sirius lied, sort of. "You study here as well. You can be friends with the students, yet you act like I'm some dirty little secret or a maniac."

"Alright," Lupin raised a finger. "I don't act like you're anything, ‘cause you're not. We're not… we're not a secret, we're just two people talking. And yes, I can be friends with the students, the university's got more than thirty thousand of 'em—"

"So why can't you be my friend?"

Lupin's expression tightened, as though he was fighting with himself. He opened his mouth, then closed it again without a word. Raising the mask in his hand slightly, he glanced at Sirius, who arched an eyebrow. 

"Do you actually want to be my friend?" Lupin asked, his voice low, almost wary. 

Sirius smirked. "You're the only interesting thing in this boring, boring place." 

"I don't think I can be your friend, Mr Black." 

"Why not, Moony? Worried I'll ruin your reputation?" Sirius tilted his head. "Or is it that you're scared of what you'll see if you look too closely? Like Dorian and his portrait?"

They held each other's gaze for a moment before Lupin shifted, letting the mask slide back over his face. He leaned down and pressed the tip of the wolf mask against Sirius' cheek, like a kiss. "Figure that one out for yourself, Padfoot."

Sirius pressed his cheek to the spot where Lupin's mask had touched and let out a soft sigh. 

He flung himself down in the middle of his bed, kicking off his shoes and undoing the rest of his shirt buttons. The bedsheets were rumpled, smelling faintly of smoke and something sharp, like aftershave. A half-empty bottle of rum he'd brought back from the party sat on the nightstand, next to the book Lupin had given him and a scattering of loose cigarette papers.

Reaching for his pack of cigarettes and lighter, he lit one in the dark room. He took a long drag, exhaling the smoke lazily towards the ceiling, watching it curl and fade.

Padfoot. He'd called him Padfoot. 

How could he possibly know about that? He was supposed to be the type of student who stayed clear of the underground fight club. And didn't the rumours say he'd transferred from Wales to here? Or had he transferred back? Was he just doing his PhD here, or had he been a student before?

"Who are you, Moony?" he murmured with a smirk, the cigarette dangling between his fingers. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out disinterested, the screen lighting up with a message from an unknown number.

Don't think you're untouchable, Sirius. If you don't start controlling Regulus like your parents did, things may take a rather unpleasant turn. 

This is not a request, but a warning — don't make us remind you how we deal with family who doesn't fall in line. 

Best to stay out of matters that don't concern you.

Sirius gripped his phone tightly in his hand and immediately dialled the number, not even giving it a second thought. 

It rang once and was answered. "Couldn't help yourself, could you?" Bellatrix's voice oozed with venom and mockery. "Always so eager." 

"My deranged cousin," he retorted. "You fucking crazy bitch" 

"Oh, don't flatter me," she laughed darkly. 

"You won't be laughing when I burn your house down," he said, his tone deadly serious, and the laughter stopped abruptly. "You have no idea what I'd do for Regulus." 

"You have no idea what I'd do for our family," she snarled. "The family you so easily betrayed." 

"You're no family of mine," he shot back. 

"And you're just the dirt beneath our shoes that we can never quite scrub off," she replied coldly. "If you keep getting into Regulus' head, at least make him do the right thing and hand over the inheritance to us." 

"The inheritance is his," he snapped. "And he'll do what he likes with it. If he wants to shove it up your arse, so be it. Until then, piss off, you dreadful excuse for a human being, motherfucker, cunt!" 

He slammed the phone down angrily, turning it off. 

Regulus would have to forgive him because, of course, Sirius wasn't going to stay out of it.

Chapter Text

Sirius was blowing another man's cock, imagining it to be Professor Lupin.

Well, Sirius was doing a lot of things while thinking about Lupin. When he was walking through the flat, he kept imagining all the possible ways Lupin could know about Padfoot. When he went to one pub or another, he would imagine Lupin appearing with that insufferable other professor.  In his classes, he would look at the teacher, wondering what it would be like if Lupin were there. It would certainly be much more interesting.

But thinking about Lupin while getting his mouth fucked, and pretending the hands gripping his hair tightly were Lupin's, was a first.

He didn't want to admit that he was going from slightly obsessive to completely obsessed with Remus Lupin. But he was, and he wasn't ashamed of it. 

Where before Remus had consumed his thoughts, now he consumed his whole body because Sirius couldn't shake the image of Lupin, even in his most intimate moments with someone else. 

He could see it out of the corner of his eye, even though his vision was blurred and filled with tears from the force with which he gagged, the book the professor had given him sitting on the bedside table. 

That stirred something in him, and he felt himself growing hotter, more impatient, and restless. He wanted to feel Lupin's hands in his hair, pulling until it hurt; he wanted those large hands gripping the skin of his thighs, and he longed for the sting of his palm coming down against his arse.

He wanted Moony.

Sirius looked up, past Kingsley's chest, the golden piercing in his right nipple all the way to his face, locking his gaze with his. He was handsome, and he fucked him well, and Sirius actually liked him outside of bed, but he wasn't the one he was obsessed with. Kingsley pulled him up and kissed him, then threw Sirius onto the bed and moved over him smoothly.

The sheets were cotton and soft against Sirius' bare skin, the pillow cradled his head perfectly, his hair scattered around it in disarray. He felt the kisses on the inside of his thigh, moving upwards. 

He closed his eyes and thought, Moony, Moony, Moony— 

"What?" Kingsley's voice sounded confused. 

"What?" Sirius repeated, opening his eyes.

"What did you say?" Moony. 

Sirius bit his lip. "I said come on me."

Kingsley seemed even more confused now, but Sirius pulled him by the neck and made him forget. But no matter how much he tried, he couldn't keep his mind away from the image of Moony in his head, with his big hands and his big wolf mask.

Sirius straightened Lily's posture and opened her clenched fist before closing it correctly, with the thumb positioned on the outside of the fingers, on the side, without curling or overlapping. 

"You need to tuck your thumb over your middle finger," he said to her. "Now, just punch the bloody life out of Marlene." 

Marlene grinned excitedly and tapped her fingers on her cheek. "Right here, Red." 

"But I won't hurt you, will I?" Lily asked, though there was a hint of anxiety in her voice and a mischievous glint in her eyes. 

"You'll probably punch soft—"  Lily pulled back her arm, eyes narrowing in focus, and drove her fist forward into Marlene's cheek before she'd even finished the sentence.

"Oops." 

Marlene put her hand over her blushing cheek, shocked. "Lily," she said in surprise. "Are you- are you single?" 

Lily laughed excitedly and shook the hand she had used to punch. Sirius hadn't even bothered to bandage her hand, thinking she'd punch weakly, but he should have known better than to expect anything less than the best from Lily when she put her mind to something. 

"Are you?" Sirius joked too, giving her his best smile.

"Single and drying," she teased them. 

"What? Not getting any since James practically married Regulus, you lost your ex-boyfriend-slash-sex-partner?" Marlene asked, pulling a funny face.

Lily placed her hands on her hips, her right hand reddening at the knuckles she'd just used to punch Marlene. "Actually, yes," she shrugged. "James always knew what he was doing." 

The clatter of keys hitting the floor caught their attention, and all three turned towards the entrance hall. Regulus stood there, wearing sunglasses despite it being the middle of November, a black wool jumper, and a black winter coat folded neatly over his arm alongside a few reusable shopping bags. 

He bent down to pick up the keys and straightened up, looking directly at them. "Good evening," he said, lips pressed tightly together. 

Marlene was stifling a laugh, while Sirius rolled his eyes. Lily, however, looked a bit more concerned about Regulus' feelings. 

"Good evening, Regulus," she said warmly. "We were just having a laugh," she smiled. "How were your classes?" 

"Normal," Regulus replied flatly. 

"Right, mid-term assessments coming up for you as well? I'm excited for mine," Lily said, rambling slightly but smiling brightly as if she and Regulus were old friends. 

Regulus continued to look at her with a straight face. "I don't get excited," he said plainly. 

Almost on cue, James walked in behind him, carrying a few more shopping bags over his arm and wearing a maroon beanie representing his Brazilian football team. "Hi," he said cheerfully. "Staying for dinner?"

"Are you sure you don't get excited, Regulus?" Lily said, and the laugh Marlene had been holding back burst into a guffaw. Sirius turned his face to laugh too, but not before seeing Regulus' frown deepen. 

"Excited about what?" James asked innocently. And Marlene laughed even more, leaning on Sirius. 

"It's not that funny," Regulus muttered. 

"What's going on?" James asked, glancing between Regulus and Lily. 

"Nothing, just a bit of banter," she said. "Honestly," she turned her gaze to Regulus, "it was just a joke." 

Regulus tilted his head. "I know. Are you staying for dinner?" 

"Of course, if you'll have me," she replied. 

"Brilliant. You can help me chop the vegetables." He turned without saying anything else and made his way towards the kitchen, with Lily following, giving James a friendly wink. 

James turned to Sirius and Marlene. "Should I be worried?" 

"Better keep an eye on those two with knives in the kitchen," Sirius teased him.

James dashed to the kitchen with the bags in his arms, but the night carried on without any stabbings between his ex-girlfriend and current boyfriend. 

During dinner, the table was cluttered with half-eaten dishes: roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and cauliflower cheese splattered on plates. A pot of other vegetables simmered in the corner, constantly being passed around as everyone helped themselves.

After filling her plate, Lily had to place a bag of frozen peas on her hand, and James gave Sirius and Marlene a telling-off for letting Lily injure herself. 

"You lot aren't fit to teach anyone anything," James said. "When I'm training with Regulus, the first thing I did is teach him how to wrap his hand properly for when we train without gloves." 

"Are you getting good at it, Regulus?" Lily asked, intrigued. She became a spectator of the fights when James entered as a fighter and since then she has always watched although she has never bet.

"I'm alright at it," he replied, then paused, glancing at the others with a smirk. "I also don't get excited about this," he joked. Sirius laughed loudly, genuinely pleased. It was stupid, but he was happy his brother had made a joke with his friends. The girls quickly joined in on the laughter, while James looked at Regulus with a soft, affectionate expression.

"And, are we going to have the battle of the brothers soon, then?" Marlene asked eagerly, taking a bite of the cauliflower cheese on her plate.

"Oh, do stop this nonsense," Sirius muttered, taking a large gulp of white wine to try and stave off the urge to leave dinner for a cigarette on the balcony. He stretched his arm behind Marlene, the soft clink of his glass against the table filling the silence as he spoke. "Wormy's been going on about this endlessly, and it's not happening." 

Marlene pouted. "But we'd make so much money." 

"I know. Why do you think Wormtail's so keen?" Sirius rolled his eyes. 

"Where is he tonight, anyway?" Lily asked, helping herself to more food. 

"He said he's taking Jorkins to some absurdly posh ass restaurant in Mayfair," Marlene replied, before pointing her fork at Regulus. "But what do you think? Battle of the Brothers?" 

Regulus was pouring himself another glass of Sauvignon Blanc while James, seated beside him, poured another glass of Coke. "I think Sirius is utterly unhinged, and I'd be equally unhinged to even entertain the idea of fighting him."

"But I fight Sirius," James said. Regulus looked at him, stretched his hand out, and placed it over James' on the table. 

"And you are a bit…" 

"A bit what?" 

"You are mad, Potter," Marlene said with a shrug. "We all are when we first saw Sirius in our first year, completely obliterating everyone in the pre-Battle of Hogwarts stage, and decided it would be brilliant to join him."

"I seriously considered never speaking to any of you again," Lily said. 

"Have you—have you ever wondered how the underground fight club got into Hogwarts?" Regulus asked. "From what I've gathered, it's been running for years—probably over 60 years—and though Dumbledore wasn't headmaster back then, does he truly not know anything about it?" 

Dumbledore had been the headmaster of Hogwarts for a long time. Sirius knew it dated back to before his cousins had even started at the uni and graduated—probably more than 30 years in the position. He was an old man with a long white beard, half-moon glasses, and a voice that seemed both gentle and commanding at once. It wasn't unusual to see him in the Great Hall now and then, eating with other professors or occasionally surrounded by curious students eager for his attention. Sirius thought Dumbledore was incredibly old but also kind of cool, especially after he swore to James that he'd spotted a tattoo on the man's neck before it disappeared beneath his clothes. James, for his part, just thought Sirius was mad.

And did Dumbledore really not know anything? Sirius thought him far too perceptive to be entirely unaware. He'd had one or two, or three, or perhaps more meetings with the professor in his office. The room was at the end of a corridor, set behind an archway with a large statue of a bird within. You'd step around it and ascend a spiral staircase to reach the actual door. Sirius had been sent to Dumbledore's office more than once for his so-called misconduct, but he'd often walked away with a pat on the shoulder, much to the dismay of a few professors. 

So, no—Sirius didn't believe for a moment that Dumbledore was completely unaware. The headmaster undoubtedly knew something, but there was likely little he could do about it. With thirty thousand or more students at the university and about 1% involved in the fight club, it was a drop in the ocean compared to everything else Dumbledore had to manage. Whatever he knew, Sirius reckoned it simply wasn't enough to warrant his attention.

"There's someone we don't know about who's involved in the fight club and who's high up on the Hogwarts board," Sirius explained, his hand reaching for the last of the bread on the table, breaking off a piece absentmindedly. "And honestly, some of the staff are involved too. They've managed to keep it going, concealing whatever they need to." 

"But the police must know something, surely? They crashed one of the fights on my first day." 

"They always crash the fights… just after they're finished, see?" Sirius raised an eyebrow, and understanding dawned on Regulus' face. "Everything is connected—it's one vast web."

"We can't let ourselves get caught in one of these raids—it'd bloody ruin everything. They always nab the bystanders, but the fighters? Nah, that's not happening," Marlene said, pointedly.

"How do you trust anyone there?" Regulus ran a hand through his hair, clearly realising the depth of what Sirius was saying, his expression turning serious.

"We don't," James said, lacing his fingers with Regulus'. His thumb ran over his skin. "We only trust ourselves. That's why we didn't want you mixed up with the Slytherins… I know you trust Crouch and now Rosier, but the others? You can't trust anyone there, Regulus. Not even in the other Houses, anyone can be a rat, anyone." 

"Any form of unlicensed fighting or combat sports conducted without proper regulations and safety measures is illegal and can be considered assault, which is a criminal offence," Lily told them as if it was engraved in her mind, and it probably was. She paused for a second, looking up at them, her eyes narrowing as she added, "The fighters will be royally screwed if they're found out—hell, even we, watching, will be royally screwed if they find out everything."

Marlene leaned back in her chair. "It's best you graduate soon then, Evans, we might need a lawyer."

"I don't know how Padfoot here hasn't needed one yet," Lily replied.

"I take no offence to that," Sirius shrugged, grinning at Lily over his wine glass. 

Lily wrinkled her nose and laughed to herself. "I had the most ridiculous thought—" 

James slapped his hand on the table, eager. "Do share, Evans!" 

"Share it!" Sirius yelled as well, a big grin on his face.

"Alright, alright, what if…we threw Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall into one of the rings… who'd win?" 

McGonagall was Lily's Human Rights Law professor and the head of the Department of Law. Well-known throughout Hogwarts, she was not only a respected academic but also served as faculty head. While law was her area of expertise, she had often overseen other faculties as well. She had been at the university for more than 15 years and was very close to Dumbledore. 

Despite studying fields completely opposite to the teacher's area of expertise, Sirius and James were more than familiar to her. If she could, she would have likely given them several detentions. Instead, she merely glared at them and gave them written warnings. But Sirius was certain she secretly adored them.

James raised his hand, pressing his lips together before flashing a wide grin. "'Ta, já sei. I've got it," he announced, his voice brimming with confidence. "I know what you're going to say, but hear me out… Dumbledore!"

Shouts of disagreement erupted around the table and James hid behind Regulus, stifling a laugh and feigning fear as the teasing boos rang out.

"Dumbledore's like 300 years old. Minnie would have him on the floor in no time—she's strong and was on the footie team when she was at Hogwarts—" 

Marlene looked bewildered. "How the hell do you know that?" 

Sirius shrugged with nonchalance, not even blinking. "I've spent far too much time in offices with her or Dumbledore. It gets boring, you know." 

"Are you hitting on McGonagall?" Regulus asked, his eyebrow arched in amusement as he leaned forward.

"Of course not!" Sirius defended himself, holding his hands up in mock defence. "I wouldn't give her false hope—she's a gem, but I'm as gay as they come, so I wouldn't do that to the dear woman."

Lily interrupted them. "Can we get back to James' totally ridiculous answer? Dumbledore might beat Professor Binns, but McGonagall? No chance." 

"I've got to agree with them," Regulus admitted with a small shrug, glancing at James as he dramatically pretended to stab himself in the chest, clutching his heart in exaggerated agony. "She'd absolutely have him on his arse."

"This is the greatest betrayal I've ever had the misfortune of experiencing," James joked. "I don't reckon anything will ever top this." 

"You'll live," Regulus replied, and, as if unable to stop himself, he pressed his lips to James' cheek. 

Sirius bit his tongue to keep himself from saying anything. He knew they had to pretend to be dating, but he couldn't help feeling a bit uneasy about how it was all going to unfold.

Lily smiled, her lips curling into a soft grin as she leaned back in her chair. "Well, this has been lovely, everyone. But I really ought to be off now."

"Back to Mary then?" Marlene teased. Mary was working late at her internship that evening, just as she had been doing lately. She was really trying to secure a permanent position soon, and Sirius truly believed she would.

Lily's cheeks flushed beneath her freckles. "Not quite. I still need to slap some toner on my hair before bed-"

Marlene's eyes widened dramatically, her voice rising in mock horror. "A toner?" she practically screeched, pausing for effect as she locked eyes with Sirius, a whole conversation seemed to pass between them. 

"Fake ginger!" Sirius pointed at Lily, and they both leapt to their feet. Lily was laughing, and Marlene, with a flourish, spun Lily's chair around to face her. Sirius stood behind the chair, both of them staring intently at her hair. "Fake ginger," he belted with Marlene.

"I knew it, you're a fake redhead, Evans!" Marlene accused. 

Sirius, now with both hands tangled in Lily's hair, examined it like he was judging the final round of Britain’s Next Top Model."Argh, how did we not notice before? Clearly a wig!" 

"Do you wear wigs, Lily?!" Marlene shouted, pointing like she was on daytime telly.

"Are we going to have to kick her out of the group, Pads?" James asked from his seat, looking thoroughly amused as he sat almost glued to Regulus. "We only let her in because we thought she was a real redhead." 

"Oh no," Lily feigned sadness. "Is that my only redeeming quality?" 

"We already had the bisexual quota with Prongs," Sirius quipped, throwing a hand in James' direction. "That spot's filled."

"And we can't have two of everything," Marlene added. "One blonde, one brunette, one ginger."

"You're not making any sense," Lily said, scrunching her face. "What do you lot think this is? A bloody ginger mafia?"

"The thing is, Evans, we wanted a ginger, and you're a fake!" 

"Can I defend my case?" Lily asked.

"Proceed."

"A few months ago, I thought it'd be fun to add some highlights, but it turned out I didn't like them, so I've been toning it to match the colour of my natural hair while I wait for it to grow out so I can cut it properly. I swear, I'm a true redhead. And a true bisexual."

Sirius crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. "I think we need another opinion," he said, turning to Regulus, who had started clearing away the dirty dishes. "Reggie, what's the verdict?" 

His brother looked surprised to be included, but Sirius was probably the only one who noticed. "Hmm, not guilty!" Regulus declared. 

Lily squealed in excitement, while Marlene groaned theatrically. Sirius shot his brother a sly smile and winked at him. He thought he was getting better at this whole older brother thing—he used to think he wasn't particularly good at it, but with every moment spent with Regulus, and every one of those rare, numbered smiles he received, he felt like he was improving a little more each time.

Sirius finally turned his attention back to the girls. "You're off the hook, Evans."

Sirius was perched on his bike,  the matte black, full-face helmet securely on his head, the visor raised just enough to reveal his eyes. His arms crossed over the stretch of his leather jacket, the material creaking slightly as he shifted. His gaze locked on Professor Lupin, who had just emerged from the library, later than expected.

But this time, trailing behind him like a shadow, was Fenwick. Sirius' brow furrowed instantly. Without wasting a moment, he slammed the visor down, turned the key, and revved the engine to life, the growl of the bike cutting through the quiet of the car park. 

As if he'd already guessed who it was, Remus' head snapped around, his eyes finding Sirius in the far corner of the lot. Sirius lifted his hand in a wave, and even from this distance, Sirius could swear he saw a faint blush creep across his face.

 Sirius didn't have to wait long. With a hurried word to Fenwick and a gesture urging him in another direction, Lupin began striding purposefully towards him. He leaned back, all too aware of the way his heart picked up its pace. This was the kind of nonsense he lived for.

"Moony." He was expecting Lupin to tell him to bugger off, but instead, he was met with flushed cheeks and gloved hands nervously fiddling with the heavy scarf he was wearing. 

"You," he said, eyeing Sirius up and down. "Now Benjy thinks I've got a boyfriend who drives a death machine." 

"Tell him you rejected me, then." 

"I—I didn't. Rejected you, I mean." 

That stuck with Sirius, and he tilted his head. "But you did." 

"No. I didn't," the professor insisted. "Because nothing happened, and nothing will, because you're a student." 

"I was talking about how you rejected my friendship," Sirius teased. If possible, Lupin's face turned even redder. "What did you think I was talking about, sir?" 

Lupin straightened, finally assuming that posture Sirius had come to know—the one that would put him in his place at any moment. "What are you doin' here, Sirius? What are we doin' here? You first came here because of your brother, well, I've provided him the assistance he required, and now he's doin' relatively well in class. So, what do you want from me?" 

Sirius smiled, studying the professor through the darkness of his visor. "I wanted to invite you to see Padfoot." 

The professor stilled. He was still fiddling with his scarf, loosening it slightly from around his neck. "Is that right?" 

"You seem to know him." Sirius finally lifted his visor as Fenwick's car pulled out of the parking lot. "Do you know him?"

He wanted to get answers out of Lupin without pushing him too hard. He had the feeling that one wrong move, one wrong word, would make him shut down like he had at his party and run off. 

So, Sirius kept studying him, his eyes following the scar that ran across the bridge of his nose and into his cheek. But his favourite was the one that started at the corner of his mouth and went almost to his chin. Sirius felt an urge, a desire to trace it with his lips, to nibble at the skin there, tasting the roughness. His pulse quickened at the thought.

His voice was low. "Where did you get those scars?" 

"That's a bit of a rude question." 

"I'm a bit rude." 

Lupin locked eyes with him, staring at him so intently that for a single second Sirius felt Lupin was lost in his eyes. "Werewolf attack," he said then. 

A laugh slipped out of Sirius. "Well, that's one way to keep me interested."

Lupin let out a quiet chuckle, rolling his eyes. "You—" 

"Are you about to tell me I'm inappropriate?" Sirius' gaze drifted to the professor's neck, to the spot where his wool scarf had slipped just enough to reveal a shallow scar partially hidden beneath his clothes. That pale, faint scar, running from his neck down, would now haunt Sirius' thoughts every time he was alone. He felt an overwhelming urge to explore Lupin's skin, to uncover the story behind every mark. 

"The way you're looking at me is," Lupin's voice cut through his thoughts, dragging him back to the present. Sirius quickly averted his gaze from the scar that seemed to stretch further, faint but tantalising. 

"It's just my eyes," Sirius replied, blinking theatrically and glancing up through his lashes.

"You're a chopsy little thing," he said, eyes flicking over Sirius, studying him intently.

Lupin always looked at him as though he were trying to crack the case that was Sirius Black. He engaged with him but didn't answer directly. It was as though he wanted to keep the conversation going, but wasn't willing to give much away. So, Sirius relented and picked up another crumpled rolling paper, just like he had a few weeks ago, though this time it had a different address on it. 

"If you want to see Padfoot, come. If you've no idea what I'm on about, then don't ever look at me again." 

Lupin took the paper and tucked it into his tweed pocket. "I haven't got a clue what you're on about." 

Sirius lowered the visor on his helmet and started the engine once more. "Then I suppose we'll never see each other again, sir."

Getting off his bike, Sirius kept watching James and Regulus climb out of James' Bentley. The taller one leaned in and whispered something in his brother's ear. Regulus laughed, hiding his face in his hands, the sound muffled as he tried to keep it in.

Earlier, he'd helped James a bit with the training they were doing with Regulus—basically, teaching him how to defend himself and hold his own in a fight. Ever since Malfoy had punched him, they didn't want to be caught off guard. And, of course, this had become a convenient excuse for the two of them to spend more time alone, but Sirius wasn't thick. He knew what was going on.

Ah, friends bonding, he thought, or whatever they're calling it these days.

"They're getting on well," Peter said, appearing at his side after getting out of his own car. Marlene, Lily, and Mary came with him, all heading towards the Faculty of Medical Life Sciences building. They were using the basement of the Department of Biosciences for Sirius' fight with Evan. It was the first time this term he'd be facing the Slytherin, and Sirius was positively buzzing at the thought of landing a punch squarely in his face. 

Sirius smirked. "They're draining my sanity."

"Save that energy for the fight, yeah? I've put five grand on you today. Reckon I'll double it," Peter said, almost bouncing with anticipation, his eyes alight with excitement.

"Five grand? Bloody hell, Wormtail, how much money have you made off me?" Sirius asked, amused.

"More than I've made off James," Peter quipped, grinning. 

"You're such a kiss-arse," Sirius said, shaking his head.

"I've been your number one fan since Year 7—" 

"You've been Prong's number one fan since Year 7," Sirius cut in, rolling his eyes. 

"Look, I just want you in top form, alright? This year, I'm certain you'll beat James," Peter said earnestly. 

"Didn't you say that to Marls last week?" Sirius teased. "I think your exact words were that she was carrying all the potential this term and that no fucking Slytherin would stand a chance against her." 

"That's so not the point." 

"Oh, is it not? You've got a real way with words, mate."

"I'm just saying all our bets are on you today," Peter insisted. "Even Mary's got money riding on it. She said she needs to buy Lily an incredible birthday present or something, but—" 

"I'm not going to lose," Sirius said, flashing a grin. "Now, get off my arse and let me go knock Rosier's teeth in."

And he did. 

Sirius bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, shifting from side to side as he faced Rosier across the mat, his mouth smeared with blood. He grinned and gave him a cheeky wink. "Come on, then, show us your face, fuckface," he teased. 

Rosier's glare was sharp, his shoulders rolling as he loosened up, shaking out his arms. Sirius could see it—the sheer awe in the way Rosier's eyes darted over the crowd and then fixed back on him. He wanted to win so badly. But Sirius knew exactly how to get under his skin.

That was his favourite part. He knew what drew him to the fight, and it wasn't the crowd cheering and shouting his name, nor was it the money—it was exactly that moment when he was on the mat, ready to give as much as he was prepared to take. 

He wasn't fooling himself, he did love the crowd, maybe not as much as James did, but he loved having their eyes on him. The feeling of being wanted, of everyone in that room practically aching to have him, was intoxicating. It was as if every single person there was silently begging to fuck him.

"Fuck you," Rosier spat. 

"Aww, cheers for the offer, mate, but I'm quite alright," Sirius quipped with a wicked grin. Rosier lunged forward, aiming a wild left hook. Sirius ducked neatly beneath it and countered with a sharp punch to Rosier's jaw, sending him stumbling backwards. "Oh, that one's going to sting, isn't it?" Sirius straightened up, planting a hand on his hip. "Sure you want to carry on? We could stop now, patch you up, and send you off to Mummy for a cuddle." 

Rosier lunged forward, his right fist arcing toward Sirius' jaw. Sirius shifted to his left just in time, letting Rosier's punch sail past him. Before Sirius could counter, Rosier's left hand came up, fast and calculated, landing a sharp blow to his ribs. The impact reverberated through him, his foot scraping slightly against the mat as he exhaled sharply through the pain. 

And then Sirius laughed—a full, unapologetic laugh that echoed through the room, his head tilting back as he grinned through the ache.

"Are you laughing?" Rosier snarled, his brows knitting together in frustration. "You've got to be fucking mental—"

 Sirius let out a low, breathless laugh, brushing his thumb over the corner of his mouth. "Sorry, mate, was that your best shot? I've had hugs from my cousin that hit harder." 

"Shut up and fight!" Rosier snapped, his fists tightening as his face turned crimson. 

Sirius smirked. Got him.

He dropped the grin, tilting his head as he effortlessly dodged Rosier's wild swings, stepping just out of reach each time. At one point, he yawned dramatically, as though bored of the whole thing, before driving a sharp punch into Rosier's left side. The Slytherin stumbled, gasping for breath, but Sirius didn't give him a moment to recover—he drove his elbow hard into Rosier's nose, the noise echoing through the room.

As Rosier fell heavily to the ground, with no chance of getting up, the audience jumped and erupted into cheers and applause, drinks sloshing in the air, cigarette smoke curling thickly above their heads. Sirius stood there, chest heaving, sweat glistening against the hard lines of his bare torso. His gaze swept over the crowd, smug satisfaction in his smirk—until his eyes stopped, locking on one figure that stood out among the throng.

Standing tall above the sea of faces was a figure in a werewolf mask. 

Lupin.

Sirius kept walking, his knees aching and parts of his body screaming for rest, but the thrill coursing through him was too much, overriding every other sensation. It felt as though he'd just woken up, ready to face a brand-new day, the exhaustion and soreness melted away with every step he took towards his bike, the sound of Lupin's footsteps close behind.

When he turned, Lupin was there, his amber eyes locking onto him, steady and intense. The mask was in his hands, his fingers, long and deft, curling around the fur as if toying with it as if daring Sirius to notice. Lupin's outfit was familiar, yet not—his black jumper hanging loosely over a long-sleeve white shirt, the hem just barely peeking out beneath the knit. His black trousers, loose and well-worn, swayed slightly as he shifted his weight. On his feet, a pair of white trainers, scuffed but sturdy.

The dark night was damp, a chill wind biting at their skin, tugging at the edges of his hair, making it fall messily across his forehead. Sirius had thrown his leather jacket over his shoulders but hadn't bothered with a shirt. 

He leaned against his motorbike, making Lupin seem even taller. "Hi, Moony." 

"Hi, Padfoot," Lupin replied. Sirius smiled and followed Lupin's gaze to his scars. "Still not telling you about it." 

"What did you think? Did you like my show?" 

"Show? That's what that was?" 

"Did you like it?" 

"You," Lupin swallowed, "were beautiful up there."

Sirius felt that familiar urge to touch him, to feel the heat of him, to trace the lines of his skin. "You really are the most fascinating thing in this place." 

"What were you doin' there, then? Not interestin' enough for you?"

"No. Not really. Not when I'd rather be doing you." Sirius smirked, his gaze dropping to Lupin's lips before meeting his eyes again. 

"You've got a way with words, haven't you?" 

"I have many qualities like that. What made you like me so much? Was it my charm when I broke down your door, or my delightful way of calling you a prick?"

"D'you know, think it was both," Lupin laughed. 

"Well, I'm easy to like." 

"I bet." 

"Do you? Bet?" The question was obvious and clear, and Lupin smiled slowly. 

"Can't say I do." 

Sirius paused. "Do you miss Wales? Your parents are there, aren't they?" 

Lupin looked at him, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Aye, they are. And  I miss it now an' again, but there are things here I wouldn't find in Wales." 

He smiled. "I'm not in Wales." 

"No, you're not." 

"Actually, I'm right in front of you," he spread his legs slightly, both so close that with one step, Lupin would be between his legs.

Lupin took a sharp breath. "Mr Black—" 

"You came here because you wanted to see me, Professor Lupin. So, by all means, fucking see me."

In an instant, Sirius was standing before Lupin, and in the next, he was pressed up against his motorbike, the taller man towering over him.

He could feel every inch of Lupin's body—his heat, the roughness of his hands as they gripped Sirius' throat with precise pressure. Those long fingers, those hands finally touching his skin, tender yet firm, neither too tight to suffocate nor too loose to lose control.

The tips of their noses brushed, breath mingling, and their eyes locked.

"I see you," Lupin said.

"Kiss me, please, kiss me—" 

"In public, Black? Perhaps the rumours that you're a slut are true." A voice rang out across the lawn, reaching them on the pavement. It was Crouch, with Rosier, heading out from the side of the building. 

Lupin tensed, his body going rigid as a stone against him, not even daring to look back. But Sirius knew that Crouch was the type who thrived on getting a reaction from people. If he ignored him, he'd get bored and leave. And that's exactly what happened. Crouch kept throwing little jabs their way until he and Rosier disappeared back into the building, heading to the basement where the after-fight party was taking place, where all the students involved in this club had gathered. 

That seemed to snap Lupin back to reality, and he pulled away from Sirius with a grimace of pain, as though it hurt to let go. Sirius knew it hurt him, too. 

"Moony—" 

"I shouldn't have come here. So let's pretend I didn't." The words silenced Sirius. "And if I didn't come… don't ever look at me again."

Chapter Text

Sirius couldn't fucking stand Barty Crouch Jr. He hated the way he looked, the way he walked, the way he talked, the way he dressed. He hated the way Barty had such a hold over his little brother, but what he hated the most was that he had let him fuck him against a car behind the student accommodations building. 

Now, every time Barty looked at him, it was as if he was trying to remind him, to tell him that he had fucked him. Every time those sharp eyes shifted in his direction, it felt mocking, like a constant reminder of one of the greatest mistakes a person could commit in this century. That he let Barty Crouch Jr. fuck him.

Sirius' face was set, hard as stone. "Regulus." 

His brother looked at him, as did all his mates, and Barty fucking Crouch, the cunt himself, leaning against the same car he'd fucked Sirius against, but this time with his boyfriend wrapped around him. He looked straight at Sirius. There was a road between them, and Sirius was sitting in the car, but somehow, he was staring directly into his eyes, mocking and cheeky.

"I'm coming." Regulus turned his gaze back to Dorcas. 

"We told you we were on our way, so hurry up," Sirius snapped, while James, in the driver's seat, chuckled.

Regulus turned back to Sirius, his eyes now sharp, posture annoyed. "I said I'm coming." 

"Effie's expecting us shortly. Hurry the fuck up, Reggie."

Regulus had gone with them to spend Christmas in Brazil with the Potters, and during that time, he'd grown a bit closer to Effie and Monty. Now, James' parents were back in London to spend a few days with James before his birthday at the end of the month. Euphemia's sister had recently been diagnosed with cancer, and the news had shaken the family. Effie and Monty planned to return to Rio de Janeiro soon to be with her, but they wanted to be with James while they could. 

For Sirius, the holidays in Brazil had been a welcome distraction. Between the long, sunny days, the celebrations, and the constant buzz, he'd been able to keep himself just busy enough. It meant he wasn't counting every second or every hour that had passed since Lupin had cut him off for good. No, he only counted the days. 

It had been 91 days since the 3rd of December, the last time they had spoken—a total of three months and one day.

Three months. Three months had gone by, and Sirius was losing his mind.

But Lupin had told him to back off, and he had. It was fucking March, and he still hadn't given in to any obsessive thought about going to Lupin's office. Not even once. 

"Don't be such a bore, Black!" Crouch shouted from across the street, in front of the Rosiers' building, where Regulus had been the entire Saturday afternoon.

Sirius wanted to march over there, grab that thick skull of his, and smash it open.

He had been training with James for the better part of the afternoon, their fists already sore from sparring, when it was finally time to go pick up Regulus.

"Regulus, now!" Sirius flung the car door open. 

The Slytherins were all staring at him. Watching him.

Sirius didn't care for them. Well, Dorcas, he actually liked. It was pretty common to see her at the flat, watching a film or reading a book with Regulus, pretending to do coursework. And his brother would laugh with her, joke with her. It was safe to say Sirius liked her, but the rest of them? Crouch was unbearable, always getting out of his way to annoy them. The Rosier twins weren't as bad, but still simply awful. Evan was dating Crouch, which meant he was completely off his trolley—only that could explain such a mad train of thought. Pandora had this unsettling ability to look at him as if she could read his every thought. She was sneaky, and whenever she turned up at the flat, she'd appear out of nowhere behind him, asking all sorts of random questions about everything under the sun, as if she were trying to get inside his head. He knew they were distant relatives of Aunt Druella, and to be honest, he felt they were just like the rest of them—annoying little shits. Sirius didn't mind Regulus making friends, but did it have to be with Slytherins? His mates were perfectly fine. 

The four of them were more or less clustered around Regulus, eyeing the Bentley across the road as if it was dirt under their foot.

"Look at them," James said from beside him. "What a bunch of snakes. Maybe we can run them over." 

"Including me?" Regulus' voice cut through the air as he stood in front of the car door, arms crossed.

 James blinked before a slow grin spread across his face. "Never you, meu amor," he said smoothly.

"Oi, what about me?" Barty shouted from across the road. "You know, Sirius, I'd ask for a lift, but I'm not sure I want to catch whatever you're spreading—" 

Regulus' gaze flicked over to Barty, unimpressed and climbed into the back seat, slamming the door shut. 

Sirius waited just long enough for his brother to get settled before leaning out of the window and flipping the Slytherins the bird. "Oh, don't worry, Crouch, your old man and I are always careful. You can call me 'daddy' now, though."

James laughed out loud and tore off in the car, leaving the laughter of the other Slytherins behind. Regulus, sitting in the back seat, huffed and crossed his arms. As he did that, he reminded Sirius so much of when he was a child, though Regulus hadn't been petulant and sulking back then. 

The white-fronted terraces of Eaton Place, Belgravia, faded into the distance as they headed towards Soho, the sun nearly setting.

"How was your day?" Sirius asked with a grin. "Did you have fun, little brother?"

Regulus looked at him, unimpressed. "It was brilliant. Barty and I spent the day taking turns making absolutely ridiculous mean comments about each other while Dorcas and the Rosiers tried to pretend everything was fine."

"Still on the outs with Crouch, darling boy?" James asked, pouting at the rear-view mirror.

"Pack it in," Regulus snapped, shooting James a glare. Sirius and James immediately burst into laughter. "Utter wankers."

"Alright, alright. I've already told you, dropping Crouch is the best—"

"I'm not going to drop my best friend."

"What rubbish," Sirius muttered. "Loyalty. The finest quality I ever taught you."

"Taught me? Sirius, you're not my father. You were as much of a child as I was—"

"I reckon," James said loudly, cutting in before an argument could start, "that you should talk to Crouch. For some reason that I will never, ever understand, you like him. So, you should sort it out."

"Right. Understood."

"For some reason, I will never, ever, ever understand—" James repeated.

"I said I understood, you tosser," Regulus muttered. "But he's pissy with me, and that's why he's taking it out on you, Sirius. Pay him no attention."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Trust me, I've never spared Crouch a second thought in my life."

The same night Sirius had nearly throttled Crouch for interrupting him and Lupin was also the night Regulus had an argument with his friend. Sirius didn't know exactly what had happened, but James had promised he was already keeping an eye on it, so Sirius didn't need to get involved. Still, it must have been bad enough because months later they still weren't on the best of terms, only seeing each other when the whole group was together. Which, incidentally, meant Regulus was spending more time at the flat, something Sirius wasn't complaining about in the slightest.

"Ah, yes, not a second thought, right?" Regulus drawled from the back seat, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You've only hated him since we were children."

"My disdain for Crouch doesn't affect my day-to-day life. He's insignificant," Sirius said with a careless shrug, staring out the window as the streetlights blurred past.

Regulus snorted. "You've got a punching bag with his face stuck on it," he pressed. "Actually, he's got one with your face on it too, which is fucking bizarre. You're both bizarre, actually—"

Sirius let out a humourless laugh. "Regulus, I don't care that your mate thinks it's amusing to call me a slut for whatever nonsense Skeeter or Lockhart are spreading around Hogwarts. I truly couldn't care less. He's a dick, and that's it. I don't befriend dicks."

"You're friends with McKinnon. And Pettigrew. And James."

"Ei, pera aí! I'm your boyfriend," James objected, feigning offence as he flicked his eyes to the rearview mirror.

"Fake boyfriend," Regulus reminded him but leaned over to plant a kiss on James' cheek as he kept driving towards their flat.

"What Padfoot means," James said simply, "is there's a kind of fool who's alright, and then there's Crouch. He's just… a spectacularly useless gobshite."

Sirius stretched his legs out and rested his boot against the dashboard.  "The day you went to his house for the first time when you were eleven, I should've told Kreacher to lock the door. You came back with Stockholm syndrome."

James burst out laughing, shaking his head. "When Sirius doesn't like someone, amor, there's nothing you can do about it." 

"Exactly," Sirius said smugly, folding his arms behind his head. 

Regulus rolled his eyes. "I just want to know why you hate Barty so much—"

"I can't fucking stand him," Sirius cut in. "Barty Crouch Jr. is a dumb fuck with all the charm of a damp rag and the soul of a cockroach. If there's a God, I hope he flings Crouch back to the hellhole he slithered out of. As if I don't already have enough reason to hate his guts— I hate him, I loathe him. Because he did something to me, on the 3rd of December, at exactly 1:22 in the morning, and I'll never— never —forget it. If I could, I'd make him regret every moment of his miserable existence. I'd dig up his grave just to piss on his corpse. Repeatedly. I'd dedicate my life to it. I'd make it an art form."

He took a deep breath, and the car fell silent.

The silence dragged on until Regulus finally broke it with a smirk. "You'd really dig up his grave? Bit much, don't you think?" 

Sirius shrugged nonchalantly. "It's not as though I could do that at his funeral, is it? Quite inappropriate."

"Because there's an appropriate way to piss on someone's corpse?"

"I'd do it just after the funeral, while the soil's still fresh, so I can easily dig it up."

"Stop with the Saltburn shite," James laughed. 

Sirius smirked. "Oh, I could slowly infiltrate his life. I already have a way in with Regulus, so I'd be everywhere. That way, it'd be easy to make it look like an accident…"

James fell silent. "You're not really going to—"

"It's a crime, Prongs." 

"That doesn't answer my question—" 

"You'd never get away with murder, Sirius. You thrive on attention far too much to do anything discreetly," Regulus interjected. 

"I could do it."

"Well, if you were to dig up the grave, you'd need a decent shovel, obviously. A pickaxe might help loosen the soil first. And gloves, naturally, you wouldn't want to leave any prints. As for pissing on the corpse, I suppose that's the one part you don't need assistance with. You'd have to be quick, though, before anyone catches on. After that, just a bit of dirt and some light tamping with the back of the shovel, and you'd be all set. Of course, if you were caught, you'd be in prison for quite some time. But if you weren't already there for murder, it might just be plausible."

James, still driving, let out a dramatic sigh. "Can we not plan our serial killer routines while we're on our way to have dinner with my parents?" 

Sirius and Regulus fell silent. For a second. 

"I could absolutely murder the shit out of you and get away with it," Sirius said casually. 

"It's written in my bloody will that if I'm ever murdered, it's fratricide," Regulus shot back.

"Jamie, não anda descalço, põe um chinelo!" Euphemia was saying as James got up from the sofa to get more brigadeiro.

"Mãe," he grumbled, but he went back and put his slippers on.

Sirius could already speak Portuguese almost fluently—sometimes the grammar caught him off guard, but he had a knack for Latin languages. But he saw it in Regulus' eyes when he only understood what Euphemia had said once James went back to put his slippers on. His brother immediately grabbed his phone and seemed to be jotting something down in his notes.

They were celebrating James' birthday without actually celebrating it. James was very superstitious, just like his mum, and they believed it was bad luck to celebrate a birthday before the actual date. So, they were simply having dinner, followed by a film with brigadeiro—no celebration, no congratulations, and certainly no candles.

"Here, amor." James had given up on getting more brigadeiro a little at a time and instead brought the half-eaten plate. He took the scoop and put a spoonful of brigadeiro on Regulus' spoon, then did the same for Sirius, handing each of them their spoon.

"Aren't you going to call me amor?" Sirius flopped down from the armchair but still took the spoonful of brigadeiro.

James smiled as he settled next to Regulus on the large sofa, where his parents were also sitting. The air in the living room was thick with the scent of chocolate and something faintly floral—Effie's perfume lingering in the air.  "Don't be jealous, Pads, you know you're like a boyfriend to me."

"Don't call my brother your boyfriend," Regulus said, frowning, while Effie and Monty laughed. The film continued playing in the background—it was a Brazilian film James had already seen, but he loved rewatching things, so he was making everyone sit through it.

"Why? Afraid I'll steal your fake boyfriend?" Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow, which promptly silenced both his brother and James.

"Of course not. It is fake, after all," Regulus said simply.

"How's that going, by the way?" Effie asked, her voice gentle but laced with curiosity.

Regulus straightened his posture slightly. "Oh, quite well, actually. My cousins have been leaving me in peace these past few months—James' name really put them off. They don't want to get negatively involved with the Potter name and all its connections. I mean, your name, Mrs Pot—Effie," Regulus corrected himself, now addressing both James' father and mother. "Also, I do apologise for using your name—"

"You can use my name all you want, Regulus," Monty said. "I get the feeling you still find a lot of use in it." The weight of the statement hung heavy in the air, but Regulus and James ignored it, returning their attention to the film as if everything were normal. 

Sirius glanced at Effie and Monty, who were holding back laughter and pouted at them. Effie chuckled softly, reaching over from the end of the sofa to stroke his face until he stopped pouting.

"Well, I'm just glad you're looking out for each other," she said gently. She had a warmth to her voice that Sirius had never heard from Walburga. "And if our name gives you a bit of peace, then by all means, use it however you need. Just promise me you'll look after each other, está bem? I'm keeping an eye on you two."

"Of course, mãe," James said with a wink. "We've got this." 

"And Regulus," she added, watching him carefully with brown, kind eyes. "If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm right here—even from across the ocean," she said with a soft laugh. 

Regulus' eyes seemed to glisten slightly as he nodded, offering her a small but genuine smile. "Thank you, Effie."

They went back to watching the film, but as the scenes unfolded on the screen, Sirius found himself losing focus. He ate more brigadeiro, mechanically, as his thoughts began to drift to somewhere else, or someone else. For most of the evening, he had been able to push Lupin out of his mind—during dinner, while talking to Monty and Effie and catching up with them—but now, as he watched Eduardo & Monica, with him so much younger and her far older, it was impossible to not think about Lupin. 

Lupin, who hadn't been in his life for three months and a day. Lupin, who still haunted him. 

Sirius grunted lowly, chewing through the brigadeiro, trying to push the thought away. But it lingered. And then he heard a soft giggle. 

He turned his gaze back to James and Regulus on the other side of the large sofa. James had his head resting on Regulus' lap, a spoonful of brigadeiro in his mouth, laughing softly at something Regulus had said, while Monty massaged James' foot, which he had casually tossed onto his dad's lap.

Sensing Sirius' gaze, Regulus' eyes snapped to him, his hand freezing in place. Smiling with his mouth full, Sirius kept his eyes fixed on his brother just to torment him a little. 

Sirius wasn't stupid. He could see straight through the wall Regulus had carefully built around himself. Besides living under the same roof, the trip to Brazil over the holidays had been confirmation enough for Sirius to know that their "fake" relationship was anything but. They were trying to be sneaky, and Sirius would give them that—they'd wait for him to leave the house before doing anything too obvious. When it was just the three of them, they didn't get all touchy-feely. But that was changing. Now, they were practically cuddling on the sofa like a real couple. Another big huge hint was that there was something about people when they were in love or on the brink of it. They became obsessed with each other and Regulus and James were disgustingly obsessed with each other at the moment. With every breath and every conversation, one of them would bring up the other's name as though it physically hurt them to be apart. It was nauseating to watch. 

And the worst part was that it made Sirius feel dreadfully single. Because, God, Sirius loved being obsessed.

Maybe Sirus would kill himself and write in his goodbye note that it was because of the lack of Professor Lupin's beautiful hands in his life.

He went back to watching the film, hardly interested, and soon, the scenes on the screen faded into background noise. By the time the credits rolled, Effie and Monty exchanged a glance, quietly acknowledging the late hour and got ready for bed. Sirius, who had already given up his room for them, didn't mind in the least. He had settled onto the sofa, making the most of the space for the night and the next few nights, as they'd be staying in London for a while. He and James preferred having them in the flat rather than tucked away in some hotel. The Potters had only one permanent residence, a cosy big house in Padstow, Cornwall, where they stayed while James was at boarding school. The rest of the time, they divided their lives between Cornwall and Rio de Janeiro.

Euphemia had already gone upstairs to bed, and the house had settled into a quiet, save for the occasional burst of laughter from the kitchen, where James and Regulus were chatting. Sirius busied himself with getting the sofa ready for the night trying to ignore the two.

"Here, son," Monty appeared beside him in his pyjamas, helping him put the sheet on the sofa.

"You do realise you're not in Brazil, don't you, Monty? It's still cold here," he joked about Monty's sleeveless pyjama top.

"Ah," Monty waved him off with a grin. "I'm fine, I've got my thick skin."

Sirius chuckled quietly, adjusting his pillow on the sofa. Fleamont wore glasses like James, with a thick beard and lines around his eyes. James looked exactly like him—his long nose, his face—but his smile was a perfect mirror of Euphemia's.

He felt Monty's gaze on him and lifted his head. "Everything alright?"

"Just wanted to check in with you… how is everything holding up?" Monty asked, his voice soft and quiet. "It's been a few months since Walburga and Orion passed, and Regulus moving in with you was quite a big change as well."

"Oh," Sirius paused, his voice a little more distant than usual."Yeah, Regulus is fine. I mean, he's getting there. I know he's still a bit off sometimes, but I'm looking after him."

Monty's gaze softened as he leaned a little closer. "I'm asking about you, Sirius," he said, his tone firm but gentle.

Sirius shifted uncomfortably, running a hand through his hair. "I'm fine, Monty. Honestly, it hasn't really affected me. You don't need to worry about me. We just need to get Regulus through this and look after him—"

"James is already looking after him, and so are Euphemia and you," Monty interrupted. "But me, Sirius, I'm looking after you."

Sirius should've been used to affection by now, but every time it came from Monty, or Uncle Alphard, or any of James' aunts and uncles from Brazil, it still felt like something he didn't deserve, something he hadn't earned. But he nodded, forcing a small smile. "It's just that, you know…I'm fine."

"Don't act tough with me, son," Monty said, his voice softening further. "As much as you're looking after Regulus, I'm looking after you. Do you understand?"

"Yeah," Sirius murmured, smiling softly.

"Good. Come to me when you're ready, alright?" Monty draped his arm around Sirius' shoulder and placed a kiss on top of his head. "Good night. Good night, boys," he called, turning towards the kitchen.

"Boa noite, pai," James replied, followed by Regulus.

Monty climbed the stairs, and Sirius let out a heavy sigh. His gaze drifted over to the window, the dark London sky pressing in, the distant hum of the city barely audible. He needed a smoke before going to bed, something to clear his mind, but before heading out to the balcony, Sirius looked over and saw his brother giggling while doing the dishes with James. The sight made something tighten in his chest.

For fuck's sake.

He'd have to give Kingsley a call.

Marlene had a piercing look on her face when she landed a back fist on Amycus Carrow's face. She loved landing that kind of blow—the way it sent a sharp jolt through her opponent, catching them off guard. If she could make that move accurately, she knew she would win.

Unlike Sirius, who enjoyed joking around on the mat, Marlene was all business, serious and intimidating. Standing at 1.80m, with dark brown eyes and a brutal left hook, she was ruthless. She didn't give her opponents a moment's respite, no room for jokes or opportunities—plain and simple, she would knock them down.

When they first joined the Fight Club in their first year at university, there had been only one woman. Marlene, however, was determined to change that, and she made a statement by taking on and defeating men much larger than her, steadily climbing to the top. From two women in the first year, her influence had grown the number of women in the club to seven. Though still a small percentage, given the club had twenty fighters in total, it was a pretty big improvement, especially considering that just a few years before they joined Hogwarts, some students had tried to ban women from the club, which had led to a significant lack of female representation.

The Hogwarts Fight Club accepted anyone, regardless of size, weight, or gender. In the first rounds, matches were more or less selected by weight class, but once it moved to the knockout stage and the Battle of Hogwarts, anyone could fight anyone.

And almost no one wanted to fight Marlene.

Sirius took some pride in the fact that he, James, and Marlene were somewhat of a "golden trio," as they were sometimes called around the club. He relished it. Fighting was probably the only reason he had stuck around at Hogwarts—if not for that, he reckoned he would have simply stopped showing up by the second month.

"Come on, Marls!" Sirius shouted, his voice rising above the din of the rowdy crowd. The sound of fists hitting flesh and the quick shuffle of feet on the mat, but Sirius' voice cut through it all. James, standing beside him, was completely absorbed in the fight, his sharp eyes tracking every move. He paused for a beat, then added his own shout, urging Marlene on.

"I always love watching her beat them up," Mary said with a light laugh, her eyes bright as she watched Marlene deliver a punishing blow. "She's my favourite, you know?"

Sirius grinned. "Oh, we know. She's mine too."

Carrow spat blood onto the floor, a tooth clattering alongside it, sending the crowd into a frenzy. They roared, jumping and jostling against one another, the basement thick with sweat and adrenaline. 

Sirius felt a presence behind him just as a strong arm draped over his shoulder. Kingsley. 

"Come back to mine later?" Kingsley's voice was a welcome murmur in his ear. 

"Do you want to take me home, King?" Sirius tilted his head back slightly to look at him, the sharp sounds of flesh hitting flesh echoing around them. 

"I always want to take you home," Kingsley replied, his gaze fixed solely on Sirius. But when Sirius looked away, his eyes landed across the mat, where Emmeline Vance stood with a group of Ravenclaws—watching them, watching Kingsley. 

He knew that Vance and Kingsley had been together before him. They'd studied together and dated all through college, but when university started, they had ended things. Then Kingsley met Sirius, and from that moment on, they had been on and off. He had officially broken up with Kingsley last year, but whenever one of them felt lonely, they always ended up back in each other's arms.

Kingsley used Sirius just as much as Sirius used him.

Carrow dropped to the floor in front of them, momentarily obscuring Sirius' view of Vance on the other side. Before he could gather himself, Marlene caught him in a triangle choke, her legs clamping around his neck. He thrashed, his face turning an alarming shade of red until he had no choice—he tapped out just before blacking out.

"Taking him to Mars! Taking him to Mars!" the crowd roared, their voices echoing off the basement walls as Marlene pushed herself to her feet, a bloody grin splitting her face.

"I reckon Marls just sent him straight to orbit!" Peter bellowed through the megaphone as he bounced onto the mat.

"She's not just sending them to Mars—she's colonising the place!" Mary yelled next to them, setting off another round of cheers and laughter.

"Gryffindor wins!" Peter declared, grabbing Marlene's arm and lifting it.

The Gryffindor supporters exploded, jumping and shoving each other in excitement. Some banged on the walls, others stomped their feet, the noise deafening. Someone in the back started a chant of "Mars! Mars! Mars!" until the whole section was screaming it. 

Marlene wiped the blood from her mouth with the back of her hand, grinning as she raised her arms in victory, and the cheers only grew louder.

"Barbaric," Dorcas muttered to Regulus. They were with the Gryffindors tonight, mostly because Regulus was still on the outs with Crouch and also because he seemed practically glued to James these days. "She looks insane."

"You said she looked ridiculously hot," Regulus retorted with a smirk.

"Regulus, I did not—oh, she's coming, come on," Dorcas hissed, dragging him away as the two Slytherins slipped off through the crowd. 

"You bloody well got him!" Sirius broke away from Kingsley to catch Marlene's hand, pulling her so close that their faces were nearly touching. She laughed, and he gave her a quick, noisy kiss on the cheek. 

"I always do." 

"No one can beat us," James chimed in, slinging an arm around both of them with a smug grin.

"I know you want more, and we've got it, so stick around! We've got Amos Diggory vs Doris Purkiss—some Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw action tonight!" Peter announced with enthusiasm. "So place your bloody bets, because I heard Purkiss is out to make someone sick tonight!" 

The crowd was buzzing with cheers, drinks flowing freely, and money changing hands. The basement was packed for the doubleheader. More and more often, multiple fights were held on the same day, mainly because the police had been crashing these gatherings with increasing frequency. It was better to squeeze in as much as they could before the next raid came knocking.

Marlene's upper lip had been swollen the night before, with a few bruises blooming along the left side of her jaw, but the swelling had eased now. James had passed her an ice pack, and she'd kept it pressed to her lip until it did the trick.

"Alright, so Cresswell's practically out of the running now, he's almost at the bottom now," Marlene said, "but Carrow, the sister, is really fucking doing well, she's ahead of Frankie." 

"The Slytherins are looking stronger this year," James analysed. "Us three are at the top, of course, but Frankie and Sturgis aren't exactly bringing it this term."

Frank Longbottom and Sturgis Podmore completed the Gryffindor team, and while Frank still had a chance of making it into the top 8, which would qualify for the knockout stage and the Battle of Hogwarts, Podmore had no chance left. For the first time in two years, the Slytherins had the potential to have more members in the final stages than the Gryffindors. As for the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, there were still some in contention for the top spots: Amos Diggory from Hufflepuff and Amelia Bones from Ravenclaw were both still in the running, while Ludo Bagman was already secure in the top 8.

"Yeah, the way things are looking, if Frankie doesn't step up, Sirius and James will be facing Slytherins before even The Duelling," Marlene said, raising an eyebrow and glancing at Peter, "Right, Wormy?"

Peter hummed from the sofa, distractedly fiddling with his phone. Usually, he was the one deeply analysing outcomes, always careful to ensure his Gryffindor bets went in their favour. And The system was fairly straightforward: out of the twenty fighters, only eight made it to The Knockout, from which four would advance to The Duelling — the semi-finals — and then two would go on to the grand final.

"I'll probably end up against Bagman," Marlene murmured, her expression hardening. "It's going to be tough."

"We can beat all of them," James shrugged nonchalantly. "The only one I'm a bit worried about is Rosier. I'm sure he's coming for the win."

"We've beaten him before, and we'll do it again," Sirius said casually, leaning against the kitchen counter. "No one can beat us."

"We just need to make sure we know who we're facing in the quarters, because by the semi-finals, we'll be fighting each other, and the final has to be between two of us," Marlene said, her eyes scanning the tablet in her hands, where they were jotting down notes and predicting outcomes. "We need to study our opponents—"

"Please," Sirius laughed, throwing his head back and barking a laugh. As he pushed himself off the counter, he added, "That joke deserves a cigarette."

"Sirius, I'm not joking," Marlene scolded.

"Exactly why it's so funny," he grinned.

"One wrong move, and those Slytherins—" But Sirius had already stepped out onto the balcony.

He pulled the pack of cigarettes from his pocket, tapping it against his palm before sliding one out. Rolling it between his fingers, he brought it to his lips, letting it rest there for a moment before lighting it. He cupped his hand around the flame, shielding it from the wind, then took a slow, deep drag, the smoke curling in his lungs before he exhaled in a steady stream. The familiar burn settled in his chest, grounding him.

He considered reaching for his phone and ringing Monty, but it was Sunday morning in Rio de Janeiro, which meant Monty would be sitting in church beside Effie, just as he did every Sunday morning.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he fished it out quickly, a flicker of anticipation sparking—maybe it was Monty. But the name flashing on the screen read Deranged Bitch. He exhaled sharply through his nose. The message was just like all the others: a threat, followed by another, then an ultimatum that never had the desired effect of shaking him.

Sighting, he flicked ash from the tip of his cigarette before lazily pressing call. The line barely rang before it was picked up.

"You motherfucker," he muttered, cigarette perched between his fingers as he took another drag. "Have I mentioned before what a pathetic excuse for an intimidator you are? Honestly? You're going to kill me? Boo. I'm terrified, Bella, the madwoman. Might have to flee the country because of her." 

"You're the mad one if you think I don't have the guts, Sirius. I'm fucking sick of you," she spat. "You can't shield Regulus forever, and you sure as hell can't shield yourself. We're going to get to you." 

"Try harder then, darling," he drawled, exhaling smoke through his nose. "Because I'm getting fucking bored of you."

Her voice was icy, "Little fucker, when I get my hands on you, Sirius, I won't be going easy like when we were kids. I want to see you begging."

"Kinky."

"Give us the fucking money—"

"You money-driving cunt. If I have anything to do with it, you're not getting a single fucking penny. Not the house, not a thing. I'd burn that place to the ground with both of us in it before I let you get your hands on it. Are you listening to me? I'm a Black—"

"You're not one of us. You're a weak little reject. Mummy and Daddy had to fucking die just to escape the shame of having you as their son. They're probably better off now that they don't have to stomach the thought of—"

"I am a Black. And I am just as fucking mad as the rest of you. I wouldn't lose a wink of sleep dragging you straight to hell with me and my darling fucking parents. You won't back down, Bellatrix? Neither will I. And I will fucking kill you, you deranged whore."

"So fucking come on—"

Sirius hung up, bored. He scoffed, flicking the ash from his cigarette with a disinterested look on his face.

He didn't care one bit about being bothered by Bellatrix. At least she gave him something to do during those dull lectures with tedious professors. He relished answering her with little remarks, pretending he might give in before telling her to fucking choke and die. But he knew that as long as he kept receiving her messages, it meant that Regulus wasn't. As ridiculous as it was, his little stunt with James and Malfoy a few months back had actually helped.

"Sirius," his brother's voice sounded from the glass door of the balcony, and from the look on his face, he clearly hadn't overheard any of the conversation.

"What is it, Reggie?" Sirius smiled, taking one last drag of his cigarette and stubbing it out in the ashtray he kept outside.

"James and Marlene are going through the other fighters, and Peter's gone out… I was thinking we could go out for tea." Regulus shrugged as if it was nothing, but his eyes were downcast, and his hands were nervously wringing together, revealing a hint of unease.

Sirius widened his smile. "You paying, then?"

Regulus rolled his eyes with a grin. "Come on, you absolute idiot."

A few minutes later, as they stepped out, James and Marlene were still hunched over the tablet, analysing the Slytherins' fighting styles, especially Rosier's.

"How on earth are you supporting Brazil now? France, I get, but you're English—" Sirius asked, cocking an eyebrow as they walked towards the lift.

"I never really cared much for football," Regulus shrugged, the flicker of a smirk playing at his lips. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, though he seemed to pull them out every now and then, as if unsure what to do with them.  "And supporting Brazil just seems a lot more interesting."

"Is it? Supporting Brazil's interesting, is it?" Sirius put his hands on his hips.

Regulus shrugged again. "Yeah."

"Ridiculous," Sirius muttered, tossing a helmet at Regulus.

"No."

"Yes."

"Sirius, this is a death machine." Regulus' eyes widened slightly, his hands flying up to catch the helmet, though his expression was half-amused, half-concerned. He seemed to size it up, almost as if wondering whether the thing might actually kill him.

That made him laugh, and unfortunately, think of Professor fucking Lupin. "I promise I'll go slow. Remember when we were kids, when I promised I'd keep you safe during that ridiculous game we played in the garden? You were terrified you'd fall off that makeshift tree swing, but I told you I wouldn't let go. And I didn't. I held on tight the whole time, didn't I? You didn't fall once."

"Yes," Regulus murmured, eyeing the helmet. "Well, if we die, at least our cousins will stop bothering us."

Sirius laughed heartily, securing his helmet before hopping onto the bike. He waited for his brother to climb on and wrap his arms around his waist. "Ready?"

"I'm not so sure."

"Let's get some bloody tea then."

The ride was surprisingly peaceful. Sirius kept the speed down, weaving between cars and not overtaking a single one and when they pulled up outside Madam Puddifoot's, a quaint little café nestled on the corner, Regulus' eyes were wide, his lips curling into a smile. As they sat down by the window with their tea, he became chatty, laughing and looking far more at ease than usual.

"I'm still a bit behind with my classes," he admitted to Sirius. "It's just… there's been a lot on my mind, but I suppose I should put in more effort." 

Sirius picked up his scone, spreading a generous layer of strawberry jam before dunking it into his tea, the Earl Grey swirling around the edges.

"I wish you'd taken the year off," Sirius replied gently. "But you chose to face it, and you're doing your best. Don't worry about it, really."

"Mother and Father would eat me alive for all the slightly average marks I've been getting." 

"Well, they can roll in their graves then," Sirius said, biting into his own scone.

"Better than them crawling out to give me a lecture." Regulus snorted, reaching for his teacup.

Sirius chuckled, sipping his tea. The window was covered in droplets from the light drizzle outside. He hoped that by the time they left, the rain would have stopped, but if not, he'd ride extra slowly to make sure Regulus felt safe on the bike.

With a scone in his mouth, he felt Regulus' eyes on him. "What?" he asked.

"You… you never feel sad? About our parents?" Regulus asked quietly, his voice tinged with something Sirius couldn't quite place. "Or care?"

"Not really," Sirius replied, and he could tell it wasn't exactly the answer his brother wanted. "Not in the way you care, Reggie. I can't lie about that."

"It's fine," Regulus muttered, but there was a sadness in his voice. "You've always been more detached, I guess. Brave."

"You're so fucking brave, Regulus," Sirius said softly. "We faced them differently, that's all."

Regulus shook his head. "I didn't. I didn't face them. I could've left when I turned 18 and come live with you, but no, I stayed."

"What matters is that we're together now, and we're going to stick together. The only thing is, we're different," he said simply.

"Yes, we are. You don't care that our parents died, Sirius," Regulus said, his teacup held in his hands. He raised it to his lips but set it back down without taking a sip. "I don't know if that's the most incredible thing or the most fucked up thing I've ever seen."

"It's not that I don't feel anything about it," Sirius said, his voice low. "But to be completely honest, I care more about your grief and you than I care about the fact they're dead. I left years ago, and I built a life without them. I've got family, I've got friends, and…" he shrugged, "I just don't mind that they died. I don't suffer for it."

Regulus looked at him with big grey eyes, the same as his own, though his brother's had a hint of bright blue that Sirius lacked. "I suffer for it."

"I know, Reggie."

The two of them sat in silence for a moment, sipping their tea. Sirius wanted to reach out and take Regulus' hand; he'd always been the type to offer more physical comfort than his younger brother.

"You know, I was angry when you left, but you're a rather good brother," Regulus murmured. "You, well… take care of me, I suppose."

Sirius smiled. Deep down, he remembered Monty's comment and wondered who was looking after him, but his smile widened, and he finally stretched out his hand to touch Regulus'.

"Go on, tell me you love me," he teased, trying to lighten the mood and make his brother less uncomfortable.

Regulus laughed and playfully pushed his hand away. "I will not."

"I love you," Sirius said. "And Effie and Monty love you, and James, and Dorcas—"

"I get it, stupid." Regulus had a smile on his face.

"I'm just saying, lots of people care about you," he continued, "I'm not entirely fond of your choice of friends, but I'm glad you have them."

"Yeah, they're great," Regulus replied. "Hell, even my professor is nice, you know, Lupin."

Sirius almost choked on his tea but drank calmly. "Mhm."

"It's been some time now, but he even gave me his number in case of an emergency."

"You have Lupin's number?" Sirius asked, nearly too quickly.

"Yes. After you broke down his door, he's been awfully great. He's the best teacher I ever had."

"Right," Sirius said, not knowing what to do with that information. All he knew was that he couldn't obsess over the fact that his brother had Lupin's number in his phone.

106 days since he last saw Lupin. Three months and 16 days. Three months had gone by, and Sirius was still slowly losing his mind.

He hated how abruptly things had stopped with Lupin, how he hadn't gotten to know him as much as he wanted, to discover his involvement with the club, to kiss him. He was so fucking close and if it wasn't for Barty fucking Crouch-

"I think I need to get fucked."

Regulus actually choked on his tea. "I really don't need to hear this, Sirius. What the fuck? "

Kingsley smiled at him, leaning against the cold stone wall of the university corridor. "Oh, so now you want to come over?"

"You were not actually serious when you called things off last week right? Come on, let's skip class and spend some time together."

"Spend some time together, huh?" Kingsley asked, raising an eyebrow. "Physically or emotionally?"

Sirius frowned. "Ah—"

"I mean, we're not actually getting back together, are we?" he asked. "Like I said, I'm not sure if you're emotionally available."

"Alright, no need to offend me now. Fucking prick."

Kingsley chuckled, leaning further into the stone wall with a grin. "Oh, I'm going to miss you."

Sirius let out a small sigh, watching the students around them for a moment before glancing back at Kingsley. "Why does it feel like you're breaking up with me when we're not even really dating?"

"I just realised, when I asked you to come round to mine a few weeks ago and you didn't… well, it's like we've got something physical and we're forgetting the emotional side. I mean, last time you were actually moaning for someone else—"

"I did no such thing!"

"You totally did. I don't know who Moony is, but you seem more available to him than to me."

"Don't act all righteous—you did use me to make Vance jealous."

"So, I guess we're even," Kingsley said.

"I guess we're even," Sirius mimicked.

Kingsley flashed one of his annoyingly perfect smiles and bit his lip. And Sirius could have pouted right then and there. "And if it makes you feel any better, it will absolutely kill me that I'm actually not breaking up—since we weren't even dating—with one of the most gorgeous people I've ever met, who also happens to have an incredible personality."

"Oh, shut up," Sirius scoffed, grabbing his bag from the floor and slinging it over his shoulder. "Thank you, Kingsley. I am now off to the most tedious lecture at this university, with the dullest professor to ever exist, and now I'm also sexually frustrated. Cheers for that."

"I was sexually frustrated as well that Saturday," Kingsley laughed. "We just keep getting more even as time passes."

"Fuck you, you absolute cunt."

"See you at The Three Broomsticks tomorrow?"

"You know it."

"Enjoy your class."

"I won't."

"Bye, baby," Kingsley chuckled, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.

Sirius huffed dramatically, turning on his heel as he disappeared into the crowd. He could not believe he had gone from single to—well, still single. How does that even work? And they hadn't even had one last shag. 

Now, he had Art History with Binns. And he hadn't been fucked. 

Brilliant. 

mate i'm actually gonna die 

sexually frustrated beyond belief 

defenestration imminent as soon as i get home

jumping out the window

He fired off the message to James as he stepped into the lecture hall. Since he was late, most of the seats had already been taken. He made for one at the back, but then he spotted Doris Purkiss sitting there. She'd been half in love with him ever since she joined the fight club, and Sirius was in no state to deal with that right now. Resigned, he dropped into an empty seat at the front just as his phone buzzed with James' reply. 

don't leave the window so open

looks like it's gonna rain 

"Hello, everyone," came Professor Binns' droning voice, pulling Sirius' attention back. He was the kind of professor who was either completely oblivious or entirely indifferent to the fact that half the class nodded off from sheer boredom. When he pursed his lips, he looked rather like an old tortoise, and his small, thick glasses only added to the effect. "As I mentioned in the last lecture—" Sirius had, of course, skipped the last lecture, "today, I have invited a brilliant young professor to give us a one-time lecture on Classical Texts and Their Artistic Depictions."

"Great," Sirius muttered to the student beside him. He thought his name was Otto—pretty sure he was Ludo's brother. "Another boring fucker."

Bagman laughed beside him. "Hey, d'you fancy grabbing a drink—"

"Please welcome Professor Lupin."

All the voices around him faded, everything closed in, the buzzing in his ears grew louder, and his eyes remained fixed on the professor entering through the side door—until he came to a stop directly in front of him.

118 days. Three months and 28 days had passed, and now amber eyes were fixed on him.

Lupin looked exactly the same and entirely different. He was wearing the very same black jumper he had on the last day Sirius had seen him, but his hair was slightly longer—he'd let it grow out—and he had a bit of stubble now as well.

"Hello, I'm Professor R. J. Lupin, and I'm pleased to be giving this lecture for you all today," his voice cut through Sirius in a way that made him feel it everywhere.

Lupin started talking to the whole class looking at every student, proper and professional. Sirius jotted down notes when something caught his interest, doodled in the margins when it didn't, and underlined random words just to keep his hands busy.

"So, what do you think?" 

That was when Sirius realised Bagman was speaking to him.

"Huh?" he muttered back. "What's your name again?"

"Otto… We've met before, ain't we? I mean, we've had classes together for months now, and—well, we nearly got off with each other that one time—"

"Sorry, mate, no idea what you're on about."

"I just thought, you know, we could spend some time together after class. I know you've got your quarter-finals with Dolohov later—"

"We don't talk about that," Sirius cut in quickly.

"Sorry, sorry, but… about hanging out later?”

Before Sirius could respond, a hand swept across his desk—one he recognised instantly, holding a pen he was fairly certain wasn't his.

"You dropped this."

Sirius looked up to find Lupin watching him, expression unreadable. He took the pen. "Thank you, sir."

Lupin's gaze flicked briefly between him and Bagman before he straightened, turning back to the rest of the class.

"Classical texts 'ave long served as inspiration for artists across centuries," Lupin continued, his voice steady. "Take the myths of Ovid, for example—countless paintings, sculptures, entire operas 'ave been created in response to his stories…"

Sirius bit down on the pen, watching Lupin until he felt he might combust on the spot, noticing how at times Lupin's Welsh accent thickened and it sent a jolt through him, as if it stirred something deep within, but when it softened, it was almost an unbearably subtle accent. He couldn't help but wonder if Lupin had any idea of the effect he was having, or if it was all in Sirius' mind. He just wanted to hear more, to figure out what caused the change, as if it might give him an excuse to lean closer.

Twirling the pen between his fingers, he hastily started sketching one of the paintings from the slides—Dirck Van der Lisse's Diana and Actaeon. The slide changed to Titian's depiction before he could finish.

"…we see this most famously in Titian's Diana and Actaeon, where—"

Sirius pressed his tongue to his cheek, scrawling Diana + Actaeon = she murdered him beneath his actual notes.

The lecture carried on, Lupin pacing the front of the room, occasionally pushing his hair back when it fell over his eyes. Sirius found himself watching him more than his own notes, though he made a point of still pretending to write. He didn't want to give Lupin the satisfaction of his full attention.

By the time Lupin was wrapping up and Binns was droning on about how splendid the guest lecture had been, Sirius finally glanced down at his notebook properly. His annotations were half nonsense, half genuine thoughts—just random things he wrote to keep himself busy as Lupin's voice occupied his mind. Still ridiculously fit. Is this what maturity looks like? RJL <3

Sirius exhaled through his nose and then looked back up—

Only to catch Professor Lupin's gaze already on him.

It lasted half a second, maybe less. Lupin's eyes flicked to his, widened just a fraction, and then—gone. He looked away as if burned, tilting his head towards Binns as though suddenly, miraculously, he found him interesting.

Sirius bit back a grin.

not jumping out of the window anymore, darling

He quickly sent the text to James and got one just as quickly.

so, pizza for dinner? 

One thing was certain: Professor Lupin was persistent. Christmas had passed, the bitter cold of January had come and gone, February had rolled around, and he'd actually agreed to spend Valentine's Day with Kingsley. Now, March had arrived for quite some time. But here they were, on the 31st of March, and Lupin was right there, in his class, teaching him and looking good enough to eat.

God. Sirius really needed to get fucked.

"Well, well," a sneering voice cut through his thoughts. "Tell me, Black, do you actually manage to do anything of value, or is your talent entirely reserved for disrupting everyone around you with your overblown sense of self-worth?"

"I'm just standing here, Snape," Sirius replied nonchalantly.

The professor glared at him with nothing but disdain, his eyes snapping to the unlit cigarette between Sirius' fingers.

"Professor Snape," he corrected sharply.

"I'm just standing here, Professor Snape."

"Throw the cigarette away. You can't smoke inside university walls."

Sirius grinned, placing the unlit cigarette between his lips. "Don't worry. I won't."

"Throw it away," Snape repeated, his voice cold and authoritative.

Snape, well, Snape was a right prick. He'd joined the university as an assistant professor in Sirius' second year, and although he didn't teach anything remotely related to what Sirius was studying, they'd crossed paths more than once. He'd already tried to have Sirius kicked out on two separate occasions. Unsuccessful, of course.

The professor had black hair and eyes just as dark, staring at everyone with a penetrating gaze, as though he absolutely hated being there. The first time he'd tried to get Sirius expelled was because Sirius had called him "Professor Fuckface."

"Throw it away," Snape repeated for the third time, and Sirius knew, he knew he shouldn't be provoking him.

 "Say please," Sirius said, a smile tugging at his lips. He stretched out his arm, the cigarette between his fingers. The professor reached to take it, but before he could grab it, Sirius flicked the cigarette away. 

Snape glared at him, his voice low and icy. "You really are a child, Black. A pathetic, insufferable little brat."

He pulled a funny face. "N'eh, I've heard worse."

"What are you doing here? Looking for something?" Snape's gaze flickered to Lupin's office door before settling back on Sirius.

"Of course not. I was simply waiting for the delightful opportunity to bump into you—my day was going far too well, so I thought looking at your face might ruin it a little. And wouldn't you know, it worked."

"If you're looking for Loony Loopy, he's not here at the moment," Snape said, unfazed.

"And who, pray tell, is that?"

Snape's eyes darted once more to the door with Lupin on the nameplate before returning to Sirius. "I don't know. We don't talk about it, do we? Oh, perhaps Loony's with Greyback," he added with a smirk as if enjoying a joke Sirius wasn't in on. "Actually, after last time, I highly doubt it."

"What—"

"We don't talk about it," Snape repeated. "Get to class, Mr Black."

Sirius had been doing his research. Lupin was an assistant professor, not a professor assistant, which was highly unusual for someone still working on their PhD. He wasn't sure if Lupin had All But Dissertation status or if he'd simply landed the position without meeting all the requirements, without having his PhD fully completed. But he was an alumnus—perhaps that had influenced things. Even so, securing such a sought-after position at one of the country's top universities without all the necessary qualifications was no small feat.

He ought to be focusing on his upcoming fight against Antonin Dolohov, who was notorious for fighting dirty, but his mind kept screaming Lupin.

"So, have you found out anything?" Sirius asked.

"I've already told you, I haven't got any info," Peter replied, barely looking up as he checked through the bettings.

"I said you can keep all the profit from my quarter-final fight if you manage to dig up anything—"

"Look, everything about the Fight Club is a bloody mess and secret, especially something from so many years ago. I've no idea who Greyback is. If I come across anything, I'll let you know."

Sirius exhaled sharply, irritated. He needed answers now. "Wormtail—"

"You asked me about this literally today, Sirius—"

"This afternoon. That's plenty of time—"

"Sirius, get a grip and focus on what actually matters right now," Peter said firmly, gripping his friend's shoulders. "This is the first match of the knockout stage."

"Whatever," Sirius said, flicking a hand dismissively.

"Are you absolutely certain you're going to agree to Dolohov's request to use boxing gloves?" Peter pressed.

"What-ever."

Peter shot him a look, pressing his lips together, but then he raised his hands in surrender. "Your decision," he said. "Put the boxing gloves on, then, and get ready for the first match of the Battle of Hogwarts."

The basement was packed, even more so than usual. It was chilly outside, but inside, it was warm, with numerous bodies huddled together in anticipation. Everyone had high expectations for the opening bout, where the loser would be out. They were in the upper section of the basement in the university library, a dimly lit space with old stone walls that seemed to absorb the noise of the campus outside, the door leading straight out onto the lawn instead of a staircase.

"I know we all love the Battle of Hogwarts," Peter said through the megaphone. "It's the best time of the year. Christmas? The holidays? Don't make me laugh. Who gives a fuck? Get ready for the best time of our lives. For our very first fight, we have the top-ranked and the bottom-ranked. Dolohov is in the house!"

Dolohov had dark hair and a long, pale face. And he didn't scare Sirius one bit. He couldn't give less of a fuck that Dolohov had requested gloves for this fight—he was going to win anyway. Most seemed to be backing Sirius, as Dolohov was not a well-liked Slytherin on campus.

"And the vicious Mad Dog—who's here for Padfoot?" Peter continued.

The crowd roared as Sirius stepped into the ring amidst the cheers. He bounded around the improvised ring, playfully mocking the red gloves he wore by slapping his fists together. The energy of the audience intensified with each of his exaggerated moves. He was the show, and the rest were the audience.

Sirius looked at Dolohov, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He tilted his head and blew him a kiss just as the fight broke out.

The match erupted into a brutal spectacle. Sirius' taunts intensified, his voice dripping with mockery as he goaded Dolohov relentlessly. He was laughing even before throwing a punch.

Starting to land blows on Dolohov, Sirius laughed at him, who was clearly outmatched. Dolohov's movements became increasingly desperate as Sirius pressed his advantage, each punch echoing through the air with a visceral intensity that drew gasps from the crowd.

He knew it was unlikely he'd get through this without taking at least one hit, and sure enough, Dolohov's fist connected with his face with a sickening thud. The impact sent Sirius reeling backwards, his balance shattered, as blood erupted from the corner of his forehead, trickling down his face.

Sirius had never felt pain so instant and sharp.

What the fuck.

His head spun, and the shouts in his ears blurred as the crowd erupted in screams and gasps, their collective shock palpable as they saw Sirius hit the ground for the first time. It was a moment that seemed to freeze time, the air thick with tension and disbelief.

He could hear what sounded like James' voice telling him to get up, but a wave of dizziness washed over his head. A punch shouldn't do this. He spat out blood and struggled to rise to his feet just as a siren wailed outside. The piercing red and blue lights of police cars flickered through the cracks in the closed windows, casting erratic shadows across the room.

Mixed with James' voice, he could hear screams from all sides—never before had a fight been interrupted by the police this early.

As soon as Sirius managed to get to his feet, he felt arms wrap around his waist, tackling him back to the floor. He hit the back of his head hard, and before he could even register the impact, Dolohov mercilessly threw punches at his face, taking full advantage of the chaos.

He could feel the first punch land with a sickening crunch, the impact sending a sharp pain through his jaw that radiated up into his skull. His vision blurred for a moment, and before he could recover, another blow struck his cheek, splitting his lip open. Each punch seemed to come faster than the last, and he couldn't block them-

"Keep your hands off my brother!" A figure loomed over him, and despite the pain and confusion, Sirius knew it was Regulus, standing between him and Dolohov. He could barely comprehend what was happening—each time he opened his eyes, blood blurred his vision, and all he could hear were screams and the sickening sound of flesh hitting flesh.

Hands cradled his face and lifted him slightly, the motion clearing his vision just enough for Sirius to see James on top of Dolohov.

"Why don't you try that on me, you piece of fucking shit! Filho da puta!" James roared, punctuating each word with another punch, a symphony of rage and pain. Dolohov's attempts to fight back were weak, his strength fading against James' relentless onslaught. 

Shadows rushed past in the background, and he realised that, up until that moment, Peter, despite being closest to the mat, was nowhere to be seen. He hoped his friends had managed to escape.

"Sirius, brother—" Regulus choked on his words, "-my brother."

Sirius looked up to see his brother, his face horrified, filled with fear. The look in Regulus' eyes—raw and frantic—stayed with him, a sharp, searing image that seemed to burn into his mind. 

He saw there the same emptiness from when Regulus lived in Grimmauld Place and that was what terrified him more.

It was the last thing he remembered before everything went black.

When Sirius awoke again, the face in front of him was Remus Lupin's.

Chapter Text

There existed a very specific feeling, yet one universally felt—that gut-wrenching little twist of emotion when you realise you've done something for the very last time, but at the time, you had no idea it would be the last. 

That feeling.

That was Remus' life before Sirius Black. 

There was the life he had before meeting him and the one he had after. 

One day, he woke up and made his tea – strong black tea with a good splash of milk, two sugar cubes, and a small cinnamon stick when he fancied something extra sweet – and he had no idea it would be the last time he made his tea before meeting Sirius Black.

In the afternoon, as the morning had been rather damp, he took the chance to rub some anti-inflammatory cream into his left knee, feeling that slight stiffness—never realising it would be the last time he tended to it before meeting Sirius Black.

That very same day, in the evening, he taught his class and stayed a little longer in his office to mark a few papers. He had no idea it would be the last time he marked papers in his office before meeting Sirius Black.

Because after he met Sirius Black, even the smallest things weren't just his own anymore. Every time he made his tea – black tea – he thought of him. When he felt that little sting of pain in his knee, he thought of the purple-bruised knuckles on Sirius' hands. When he sat in his office, trying to focus, all he could picture was the way Sirius had kicked the door down like a maniac.

Life after Sirius Black was an unshakable feeling that everything led back to him. Every thought, every habit, every quiet moment—he was there, lingering in the corners of his mind as if he owned the place as if he had every right to be living there.

Sirius Black was completely unhinged, out of his mind. He was egocentric, mean, and obnoxious. He lived in a world where he was the centre of the universe, and everyone around him was simply lucky to exist at the same time as him. He was defiant, foul-mouthed, and had absolutely no respect for rules or order. He was everything one shouldn't be.

And Remus was utterly drawn to him.

His laughter was a sharp bark that echoed through every room he entered. His eyes were like a mirror to his soul—you could see every emotion, every thought laid bare for those who dared to look through those glass-grey eyes. His honesty was refreshing in a world full of people obsessed with appearing good and righteous; with him, there was space to be flawed, to be real. He was protective, thoughtful—he noticed things. And Remus… Remus couldn't help but be drawn to him, no matter how much he tried to resist.

Sirius Black was driving Remus mad.

He tried to stay away. He put a boundary between them, shut the door, locked it tight and for almost four fucking months, he lived without Sirius in his life as it should have been. Sirius wasn't just dangerous, he was a bloody student, off-limits, everything he shouldn't want, everything that could ruin his life, his job, his sanity. He shut him out. He was locked out of him. But it felt like the empty spaces in his mind were swallowing him whole, dragging him back to where he swore he'd never go again. 

And every time he was still for more than a few minutes, his mind blank and hollow, it went straight back to that night—to the feel of Sirius' pulse thudding beneath his skin when his hand was wrapped around his neck, the tip of his nose brushing against Sirius', the way he had asked, even if just for a few seconds, for Remus to kiss him. 

His last memory of Sirius for three months was the sound of his voice—practically singing, moaning, begging him to kiss him. That sound didn't just linger, it haunted him. It slammed into his ears every damn night, over and over, like a fucking echo he couldn't escape. It crawled inside him, seeping through his ear canal, vibrating through his tympanic membrane, and clawing its way into his brain.

Kiss me, please, kiss me.

And how Remus wanted to just kiss him. To kiss Sirius Black.

A student. Remus wanted to kiss a student.

No. Remus didn't just want to kiss a student. He wanted to unravel Sirius, to rearrange his guts, to tear him apart and piece him back together, to fuck him so thoroughly neither of them would be able to stand for a week.

He wanted Sirius so badly it ached, made him feral—made him want to sink his teeth into him and claim him, irrationally and entirely. He wanted to have him, possess him in every way.

Remus wanted to fuck Sirius Black until he'd carved himself into him, until there was nothing left untouched. Until he was ruined beyond repair, until he belonged to him and only him.

It was relentless. The ache, the craving, the madness. He couldn't escape it.

Sirius Black was driving Remus mad.

So he pulled away, locked himself inside his own mind, and refused to leave any space for Sirius to slip back through the cracks of his body and thoughts. But then, almost four months later, there he was.

Blood painted his pale skin, bruises blooming so fast they turned his face into a patchwork of colours—raw and swollen. One eye was nearly swollen shut, a black eye darkening the skin around it. His nose, reddish and tinged with blue, sat crooked on his face. A mess of crimson blood, deep purple bruises, and damp black hair clinging to his skin made up the sight before him.

Sirius was shattered, and Remus wanted to put him back together.

He felt a desperate need to care for him, to cradle him, to take away the pain that radiated through Sirius, his eyes frantic beneath the closed eyelid. Remus' watchful eyes traced every bruise, every cut on Sirius' battered face, drinking in the sight of the destruction, as though every mark was a wound that Remus had failed to protect him from. His chest tightened. 

Then, suddenly, a voice.

"Like the painting of a sorrow, a face without a heart." Sirius' words pierced his thoughts, and Remus snapped his eyes to him. 

"Are you… quoting Shakespeare to me?" Remus asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes searching Sirius for some sign that he hadn't just been dreaming.

"I'm quoting Oscar Wilde for you," Sirius murmured, as though it hurt to speak. 

"Lord Henry," Remus whispered, "to Dorian Gray." 

Sirius smiled faintly. "My favourite dork," he whispered. "Do I look utterly dreadful, Moony?" 

"You look like a painting of a sorrow," Remus confessed. The Hamlet quote unsettled him, not just for its original weight but because Wilde had used it in The Picture of Dorian Gray. The very book he had gifted to Sirius, a book he had bookbound himself to make a unique copy, much like his mam had done for his tad when he were a bairn. He wasn't daft enough to think Sirius had read the book just because it was from him; it was a famous book, and Sirius had read it already. But there was something relentless inside him that whispered Sirius had reread it just because Remus had given it to him.

If Remus had ever believed his life could go on the same without Sirius, he had been utterly deluded. How could life after Sirius ever be the same when one of his students had turned up at his doorstep, battered and bloodied, asking for his help? How could life after Sirius be the same when he was now sitting in Remus' bath, bruised and bleeding, staining everything red?

Remus watched as Sirius let his eyes slip shut again, his breath slow, mouth slightly open—probably because breathing through his nose was too painful. The blood was still fresh, seeping from his wounds. While Sirius had been confused, his eyes flickering shut, Remus had managed to clean him up a little and assess the damage. He had used the showerhead, letting warm water—tested with his own hands first—run over Sirius' battered skin, washing away the worst of the blood. His fingers had combed carefully through Sirius' damp black hair, searching for any hidden wounds along his scalp, dread settling in his chest as he checked each inch. The relief that flooded him when he found nothing was so overwhelming it nearly knocked the breath from his lungs. But there was no time to dwell on that now. He needed to act fast. The moment he pulled the water away from Sirius, the blood started trickling from his wounds again, fresh and relentless.

Sirius was shirtless, his body a mess of sweat and blood, the latter trickling down from his face to his collarbone. His skin was marked all over, his nipple piercings catching the light, the taut lines of his stomach marred with streaks of red.

"How did I get here?" Sirius asked, eyes still closed.

"Your brother brought you," Remus answered, gathering everything he needed to tend to his injuries. "Right, listen now, you can't be shuttin' your eyes again, got it? I need you to focus—"

"I'm always focused on you," Sirius teased.

Remus shot him a stern look, cradling his face carefully. "Try and open your eyes for me, aye? As much as you can," he instructed. Sirius obeyed, though his left eye was nearly swollen shut. His pupils were the same size—a good sign—and when Remus told him to stay awake, he managed to do so without appearing disoriented or sensitive to the bathroom light. "I don't think you've got a concussion," Remus said, "but we need to get you checked at the hospital—"

"Not a fucking chance."

Remus let go of his face for a moment. "You are goin' to the hospital."

"I'm perfectly fine."

"You have a broken nose, cuts still spillin' blood, a right shiner, an'—like I literally just said—you might or might not 'ave a concussion. You are not perfectly fine, and you are goin' to the fuckin' hospital," Remus snapped.

Sirius smirked. "I like it when you talk rough to me."

Remus' breath hitched for a moment, but he quickly shook his head and focused. With freshly washed hands, he carefully pressed a gauze pad to the deepest cut—just at the corner of Sirius' forehead—to stem the bleeding. The fabric soaked through almost instantly, crimson blooming fast, and Remus had to replace it with fresh gauze. He pressed it more firmly this time, holding it there for a long moment, feeling Sirius twitch under his touch but not pull away.

Once satisfied, he placed a steady hand at the back of Sirius' neck, his fingers brushing damp strands of tangled black hair, gently tilting his head forward so the blood from his nose wouldn't trickle down his throat and choke him. He worked carefully, wiping away the mess, all the while feeling Sirius' gaze locked onto him, even through the wince of pain.

"Alright," Remus murmured once the bleeding seemed to have stopped. "I'm gonna mix up a saline solution, clean everythin' proper, and fetch some ice for your nose and eyes. We'll keep the ice on for about fifteen minutes, then give it a break. When we get to the hospital, they'll set your nose back in place and stitch up your forehead."

Sirius didn't say anything, but when Remus returned from the kitchen, he was still awake, pressing the gauze against his deepest cut and staring right at him.

Remus knelt beside the bath again, setting down the ice pack and saline solution. With steady hands, he dipped a clean cloth into the saline, carefully dabbing at the wounds on Sirius that had finally given a break from all the blood flowing. Then, he turned the shower head back on, testing the temperature before letting the warm water run over Sirius' skin. With another clean cloth, he dabbed at the dried blood clinging to Sirius' cheekbones, his jaw, the curve of his throat. He wiped away the last streaks of red that had settled in the hollows of his collarbones, rinsing the cloth before pressing it lightly against Sirius' temple, where the skin was already turning an ugly shade of purple. His hands were sure, methodical—Sirius let him do it without a word, only watching him through half-lidded eyes.

"I reckon you're good for now," Remus finally muttered, his voice softer. 

"My hero," Sirius murmured with a small, lopsided grin.

The two of them stared at each other in silence, the only sound the slow drip of water hitting the tile of the bath and the faint trickle of blood-tinged water swirling down the drain. Now that Sirius was clean, the full extent of his injuries was on display—less alarming without all the blood, but still far from a pretty picture.

The silence between them always felt deafening and tense, like something was constantly on the verge of bursting, like there was always a ringing in the back of their minds.

"How you feeling?" Remus asked, voice low. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Sirius, no matter how much it near enough hurt to look at him. It was like watching a car crash—horrific, but impossible to look away from.

"Didn't know I had to get the shit beaten out of me to see you again," Sirius shot back, head lolling against the tiled wall, chin tipped up as he looked at him.

"I saw you," Remus said. I see you. The words he'd said to Sirius all those months ago still rang true, still burned in him like a fact so unshakable it felt like it had always been there.

"Right, Professor Lupin. If it weren't for Binns, perhaps I wouldn't be seeing you for a while, yeah?"

Remus had actually been the one to suggest it to Professor Binns, pitching the idea for the lecture, knowing full well that Binns would love it. The chance of not having to give a lecture was something Binns would jump at, and it meant that Remus would get to see Sirius. He'd framed it as an academic opportunity—an intellectual pursuit, exploring the links between classical texts and their artistic portrayals—but deep down, Remus had wanted the time with Sirius more than anything. He had tried to convince himself and Benjy that it was for purely educational reasons, but there was no denying the real motivation behind it. Sirius didn't need to know that, though.

"You behaved better than I expected."

"Maybe I've got a thing for Classical Texts and Their Sexy Depictions—or maybe I'm just like Orpheus. Always looking back at the one thing I shouldn't." Sirius' lips curled, something knowing flickering in his bruised eyes. "But my Eurydice won't come back to me."

Remus let out a quiet breath of laughter. "You hardly know me." Right? Right? They didn't know each other all that well, even if it felt like they did, even if it felt like Sirius was lodged under his skin.

"Oh?" Sirius tipped his head. "And how do you know I was talking about you?"

A laugh, soft and unsteady, escaped Remus as he ran a shaky hand through his hair, his breath faltering for just a moment. "You," he murmured, voice barely a whisper, as if saying the words aloud might make them too real. "How is it possible I missed you?"

Sirius gave a small smile. "Missed me, did you?"

"Apparently, I've got a habit of finding myself tangled up with maniac, pain-in-the-arse lunatics."

"Sounds a bit masochistic to me."

"Well, that sounds about right," Remus joked.

Sirius chuckled but then winced in pain, breathing deeply through his mouth. "I suppose I didn't win this time," he quipped, a faint smirk playing on his swollen lips.

"What happened?" Remus asked, his tone serious. "You were fightin' Dolohov tonight—"

"How the fuck do you know that?" Sirius cut in, gripping the edge of the bath.

"There are no secrets at Hogwarts."

"Piss off with the cryptic shite. No more lies, no more running away. Just tell me."

"Ain't nothin' you need to know—"

"You can miss me, but you can't tell me shit?"

Remus hesitated. He didn't want this—didn't want to drag up the past that had haunted him for years. But then he felt it—a warm hand covering his own. 

"I was a student at Hogwarts," he admitted quietly. "Did my first two years there. Third year, I went back to Wales."

"Why did you go back to Wales?"

"Because I'm what happens when the fight club goes tits up."

Sirius fell silent. His unbruised eye raked over Remus, scanning him, searching, lingering on every scar.

"You used to fight," Sirius stated.

"Aye, didn't get this pretty from sittin' on me arse, did I?" Remus muttered. "Yeah, I was a fighter—"

"Who the fuck are you?"

The memories hit Remus like a punch, but he held his composure, keeping his steady gaze on Sirius. He didn't blink. Didn't look away. He had quite the impression that no matter how much he tried, he would never escape Sirius Black.

He was someone else entirely—and yet still the same, all at once. He was the boy who'd once been on the mat, throwing punches, and he was also the man who'd walked away with an injury for a lifetime. He'd been Greyback's punching bag, and now he was a professor in the same hallways he ran away from.

"Loony Loopy Lupin," he said. "That's me."

Sirius looked like he was glaring daggers at him, though Remus wasn't entirely sure if that was just his imagination. Every time he was on the receiving end of that piercing gaze, he felt utterly exposed.

"Seems fitting. You do seem a bit loony, if I'm being honest."

"I seem loony?" Remus let out a laugh. "Well, not quite as legendary as some, though. Right, Mad Dog?"

Sirius' throat bobbed. His grip on the bath's edge tightened. "All this time, and you knew everything."

"Once you're in it, you never really leave it, do you?"

He watched as Sirius fidgeted with his fingers against the ice pack pressed to his face. Without thinking, he reached out, his long fingers brushing against Sirius' before taking over, holding the ice pack in place himself.

"You got battered and left, that's it, man?"

"You got battered and left on my bloody doorstep, that's it?" Remus shot back.

"Answer me—"

"No. You answer me. What the fuck happened? You were meant to take Dolohov down easy. So go on, enlighten me—what went wrong?"

"Yes, well, alright," Sirius muttered. "I'll answer you, and you'll answer me."

"Fair enough. Crack on, then."

"Dolohov requested we fight with gloves," Sirius said, and Remus let out a slow breath, eyes shutting as he dragged a hand down his face. 

"For fuck's sake." 

"I know," Sirius stressed. "But I couldn't have particularly cared less. Some fighters prefer gloves; it's not unheard of, and I was… distracted. So I said yes." 

"Of course you did, you prick." 

Sirius' tongue darted out to wet his lips, his gaze flicking down to his hands, still wrapped in the fight bandages, resting in his lap. His fingers flexed once, then stilled. "Every punch felt like a fucking rock slamming into my face," he murmured. "Because it was. Rocks. Inside the gloves." 

Remus saw red. "You takin' the piss?" His voice was low, sharp, but the anger in it was controlled—just. "That motherfucker could've killed you. He could've left you permanently fucked up—for what?" 

Sirius exhaled a sharp, humourless laugh. "Probably something to do with my cousin. She studied at Hogwarts, so I wouldn't be surprised—I mean, I'm not surprised—she actually knows about the club. She used it to get to me." 

"Your cousin?" Remus blinked, rage still bubbling under his skin. He should've gone to that fight. Should've ignored Benjy when he said it wasn't a good idea. 

"Bella, yeah. If you think I'm crazy, you should see my family—" 

Remus froze, feeling his stomach twisting. "Belladonna?" His voice was quieter now, but his eyes were wide, sharp. It clicked—all at once, the pieces slamming together. "You're related to Belladonna?" Remus breathed, still processing it. "Bellatrix Lestrange?"

Sirius tilted his head, considering him. "You know her?" 

Did he? It clicked—all at once, the pieces slamming together. 

He hadn't even thought to connect the dots—hadn't even considered it. But now it made sense. All of it. At university, Bellatrix had already been married—already known as Bellatrix Lestrange, the Belladonna of the fight club. But before that? Before that, she must have been… Bellatrix Black.

"Bella," Sirius repeated. "My oldest cousin. We grew up together, fairly certain she kept a collection of dead animals in the basement… was she a fighter?"

"A fighter? Bellatrix was the only woman in the club when I joined, and she was bloody terrifyin'. She had a reputation for being as lethal as poison," Remus said. No wonder her nickname came from one of the deadliest plants in the world. "No one wanted to face her. She… she's dangerous, Sirius."

Sirius raised his eyebrows, glancing down with a small smile. "Yeah, I gathered that."

The panic that swept through Remus was cold, familiar- almost identical to what he'd felt all those years ago when he was barely twenty. 

"Fuck." The word left him in a breath.

"You look like you can't stand any of this," Sirius said, watching him closely. "So, why are you hanging around the fight club again?"

Remus scoffed. "Why? Isn't it obvious?" he asked, fixing him with a hard stare.

"I don't know. Hardly know you, do I?" Cruel little shit.

"I was going to stay away. I came back, wanted nothing to do with the club shite—the fights, the betting, the people in it—and then you happened."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you get it? I'm in this again for you. The moment I found out you were in it, I couldn't keep to myself—I've been keeping tabs on everything and—" Remus took a deep breath. "I'm back for you."

"But," Sirius voice tiny, "you hardly know me," he repeated, the words slipping from his lips in a hushed whisper.

"Yeah. I'm a grown man, actin' like some lovesick teenager over some lad six bloody years younger than me—a student, no less. Just turned 29 last month, for fuck's sake." Remus let the heavy silence stretch between them, his eyes never leaving Sirius. "And I barely know 'im."

Remus didn't take his eyes off Sirius, even when he saw him lift his hand, still smeared with blood and wrapped in the boxing hand wraps. The rough fabric skimmed his skin as Sirius' hand hovered near his face, lingering just long enough to make Remus' breath hitch. His warmth, the way he leaned in—close enough that Remus could feel the steady pull of it in his chest—set his pulse hammering.

Amber eyes on grey. Fingers ghosted over the side of his neck.

Sirius touched him, and it felt like a punch. He couldn't even begin to imagine how it would feel to be kissed by him.

For a fleeting moment, everything else ceased to exist. Remus' pulse thundered, his head spun, and just as Sirius' lips hovered a whisper away from his—almost touching, that craving, that yearning almost—

Remus' phone rang.

As if jolted by a shock, Remus straightened and walked over to the sink. The phone on the counter vibrated and rang, an unknown number flashing on the screen. He picked it up and held it to his ear, shaking slightly.

"Lupin?" a voice murmured.

"Yes. Is this—"

"James, yeah—just tell me my brother's fine, please."

Through the mirror, Remus caught Sirius' gaze. "Sirius is alright," he said. From the deep breath on the other end, he could tell James was relieved. "He doesn't seem to have any injuries around his head, but I can't say for sure if he's got a concussion or not," Remus added. "But he's a stubborn bugger, insisting he's perfectly fine."

"Tell him to do as he's told!"

Remus chuckled, pressing the phone against his chest as he turned to Sirius. "James says you've got to do as you're told."

"Oh, of course. I'll be the picture of compliance. Shall I also take up knitting and start saying 'yes, sir' like a good boy?" Sirius drawled.

Remus stared at Sirius a bit before bringing the phone back to his ear. "I'll take him to A&E once the police 'ave finished their rounds. Meet us there?"

After he had hung up the phone, he placed both hands on the sink counter, his fingers brushing against the mess. Bloodied gauze was scattered across the surface, along with crumpled bandages and a few cotton pads soaked in red. The faint scent of antiseptic mingled with the metallic tang of blood, still lingering in the air.

He glanced up at the mirror. The reflection was slightly distorted by the steam that had settled in the small room, but it didn't stop him from taking in the image of Sirius. His eyes traced the exposed skin, lingering on the intricate tattoos painted across his body. They were all black, a mix of runic alphabets and alchemical symbols. A large, vertical rune ran down the center of his torso, beginning at his collarbone and cutting through his ribs before branching into a jagged Y-shape near his navel. Smaller sigils and protective marks surrounded it, some enclosed in perfect circles, others twisting into angular scripts. On his chest, symmetrical glyphs stretched across his skin like ancient seals. His arms bore more of the same—lines of unreadable text inked into his biceps, spiralling patterns etched along his forearms, remnants of a language Remus didn't know how to speak, but one he longed to learn, so he could read Sirius' skin like a book.

Grey glass eyes meet his in the mirror, sharp and attentive.

His ears were ringing—like there was some bloody song playing between them that he couldn't shut off. Like the silence wasn't silent at all.

Remus needed to get the fuck out of there before he crossed a line he couldn't ever come back from.

James Potter was more or less exactly what Remus had expected him to be. He was exactly as he presented himself—honest, funny, and a bit arrogant. He didn't really hide anything, talking to James felt like seeing him for who he truly was. Remus could perfectly understand why he and Sirius were so close.

"I mean, this is the worst thing that's happened to me since Marnie had a go with Gary."

"What?" Remus hummed.

"You know, in Geordie Shore? I was heartbroken," James said, then paused. "Sorry, when I get nervous, I start trying to distract myself sometimes."

"S'alright, James," Remus said.

"For me, it works better to focus on calming myself down rather than getting distracted, but—" he glanced around the hospital. It was still the early hours of the morning, around three, and A&E was practically empty. The harsh fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, casting a stark white glow over the bright floors. Plastic chairs lined the walls, mostly unoccupied apart from the odd exhausted-looking patient waiting to be seen. A vending machine hummed quietly in the corner, stocked with slightly melted chocolate bars and overpriced crisps. "Empty hospitals are kind of freaky, right?"

Remus knew a thing or two about spending time in hospital, and to be honest, he'd got used to the atmosphere—sometimes a bit cold, sometimes packed with people waiting. But he still remembered those first moments of emptiness he'd felt in the hospital, back in the early days, when the sharp smell of disinfectant turned his stomach and the bright lights made him feel like he was detached from reality.

"Aye, I get that."

They fell into silence again. Remus watched the way James tucked his knuckles into the sleeves of his jumper. His hair was slightly flattened, sticking up a little at the back, like he'd let it dry while lying on a pillow. He smelled of fresh soap and… arnica. 

As if sensing it, James glanced at him and scrunched up his nose with a small grin. He shifted his sleeves just enough to show his knuckles, revealing fresh but clean wounds, the skin still raw but tended to.

"My vovó swears by this arnica stuff—used to slap it on me and my cousins any time we so much as grazed a knee. Mum brought some over from Brazil for me. Came in handy sharpish," he said with a humourless laugh, tucking his knuckles away again.

"How did you get like that?" Remus asked, even though he already knew the answer. 

"Couldn't exactly let the bastard who did this to Sirius just walk away scot-free, could I?" he breathed. " Filho da puta! Queria arrastar a cara daquele babaca no asfalto. Tomar no cu. "

"No idea what you just said, but I'm fairly certain it wasn't anything good," Remus murmured with a small smile.

James smiled back, but it quickly turned sharp—venomous, angry. "That motherfucker. How could he? How? I wanted to kill him, that fucker," he spat, rage spilling out of him. He flexed his fingers, not showing even a flicker of pain, and at that moment, it made even more sense why he and Sirius were so close. They might both be absolute maniacs.

"We're not makin' death threats in the middle of a public place—"

"I wanted to grab his skull and smash it against the floor until his brains poured out in liquid form from his ears," James said, staring straight at him.

Remus blinked once, paused, glanced to the side, and then looked back at James. "Right then."

"Everyone was running, and I was trying to get to them, and he kept banging on Sirius' face over and over again. I could barely see his skin from all the blood." James' eyes went wide. "There was so much blood, and I just pushed him away, and I—"

"That's what happens there," Remus cut in, and when James widened his eyes at him, he added quietly, "Don't worry, we're not talkin' about it."

James looked at him with understanding, and it seemed like his eyes briefly traced over Remus' scars. "It should just be something we do, it shouldn't be dangerous—"

"What's not dangerous about what you lot do, James? Surely you can see that, right?"

"It's just a stupid uni thing—"

"It's much more than that."

Seemingly remembering why they were there, the thought hit James like a wave. He took a deep breath again, his eyes shifting around the room behind his glasses. Remus was exhausted, he hadn't slept, he was worried, he was putting himself at risk, but he placed his hand on the shoulder of the guy he barely knew.

"I've always been an anxious kid," he murmured quickly. "To be honest, I reckon it came from bein' an only child with anxious, overbearin' parents. They were always on me about somethin'," he shared. "Used to get sick a lot as a kid, and after I caught real bad pneumonia at four and ended up in hospital for a while—nearly died. Ever since then, my parents… well, somethin' changed. I hardly remember it, but they came out traumatised, and all that anxiety just rubbed off on me."

He ran a hand through his hair, fidgeting, and James' words stumbled out, faster now, as if he couldn't stop. "I never had a reason to be anxious. At least, that's how I saw it. How could I get so anxious, so nervous, when everything was fine?" he rolled his eyes at himself. "It doesn't make sense, does it? But… I just… I couldn't shake it. It kept getting worse all the time. Therapy helped, sports helped, I've learned to cope with it, but it's just always there, you know? But I know how to deal with it, and I just have to deal with it now."

"Yes, exactly. Just breathe—" Remus watched him, his hand still on James' shoulder. He opened his mouth to say something else, but James kept going, barely pausing for breath.

"But it's my fault, innit? I should have stopped Sirius the moment he decided to join it. But I didn't, I actually joined in with him," he paused, "maybe I'm mad. Maybe I'm the insane one."

"I wouldn't rule that out—" Remus said softly, trying to keep the mood light, but he could see how James was going further into himself.

"And Sirius, he doesn't make the best decisions when he's acting impulsively," James said, his leg trembling up and down. "And this hospital is bloody freaky. What the hell? I hate it here. Look at that weird-looking person over there."

"The nurse?"

"I can't stand their hair. What a hideous shade of blonde. Why is everything so weird here? Why does it feel like everything's closing in?"

"James, you're spiralling a bit." He squeezed his shoulder harder to bring him back. "You need to breathe, mate. Just breathe. It's alright."

But the younger man didn't seem to hear him. "And Sirius' hair is so, so black, I… I was terrified he'd hurt his head and we wouldn't be able to see it. Should I have taken him to the hospital straight away?"

"Would've drawn the police's attention, maybe, but no—wouldn't have been the wrong call."

"Exactly. The police, they were everywhere, and if we got caught, it wouldn't just be us paying the price, would it? I mean, we might've got away with it, but our mates, the others involved, they don't have the same… fucking privilege?"

"You are right about that."

"—and there was so much blood—what if life's just a test to see if we can become better people, and I failed mine by giving Dolohov a concussion—" 

"A concussion?" Remus blinked, taken aback. 

"Don't worry, his arsehole mates got him out of there, and I think they didn't get caught by the police, so he's fine," James said, as though it were the worst news of his life. 

"Alright-"

"It's too much. I can't—why is it all happening? Why now? Why does it feel like the world's about to just… crash down around us?"

"James, please," Remus interrupted, squeezing his shoulder firmly. "As you said, you need to breathe. It's alright. It's going to be fine."

He could tell that James had received the message well as he watched him gradually calm down. James focused on his breathing, and as he did, the tremor in his leg finally stopped. Remus slowly let his hand fall from his shoulder, watching him closely for a moment. James had mentioned earlier that he'd been with some friends at the flat and that he'd come in a lift from a mate, avoiding leaving any trace of a cab ride.

"I'm good," James murmured.

They sat quietly in the waiting room, the ticking of the clock the only sound between them. It had been a long night, and the sterile, bright white of the hospital room felt unnaturally quiet. When Sirius had been taken in for stitches, they'd been allowed to stay with him for a while, but soon after, he was whisked away for an X-ray to check on his nose. Thankfully, they didn't need to do an MRI to check for a concussion. The physical exams had all come back clear, which was a relief, but Remus couldn't shake the tight feeling in his chest. Despite knowing that everything would be fine—Sirius would come back with his nose immobilised, some painkillers, and antibiotics, and they would send him home soon—there was still an unsettling knot of anxiety in his stomach. Looking at James, Remus could see that he was feeling something similar. James' expression was distant, his eyes a little unfocused, and there was a tense undercurrent to the way his jaw was set.

"Why doesn't Sirius come back to my flat?" he said before thinking. "You seem like you need some time, so maybe it'd be best if you could sort yourself out first, yeah? You said your friends—"

"Lily and Mary."

"Yeah. You said they're with you, right? So, they've got you, and I've got Sirius. How's about that, eh?"

James nodded, letting out a relieved sigh. "I trust you. You gave Regulus your number in case of an emergency, and if you care enough about him to do that—and he actually took it… If Regulus trusts you, then I trust you too."

Remus didn't want to touch on the subject. He'd sensed it the moment they arrived at the hospital—when Sirius first caught sight of James sitting alone in the waiting room. Something was off. But he hadn't said anything at the time. "That's good. You can trust me. Well, I did help you lot break the law, maybe."

James huffed a laugh, nudging his knee against Remus' with a grin. "You're one of us now, Lupin."

Remus snorted, shaking his head. "Aye, well, not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing." 

"It's a terrible thing," James said, smirking.

Remus let out a quiet laugh, but the feeling of unease lingered. James wasn't wrong—there was something off about the hospital. They were the only ones left now, the other patient having been called in, leaving just the hum of distant chatter and the occasional shuffle of footsteps down the corridor.

They'd chosen this hospital deliberately—far from where they lived, far from Hogwarts. Less chance of being recognised. Less chance of questions they don't want to answer.

James' leg had finally stopped bouncing, but Remus still caught the way his fingers flexed, clenching and unclenching, like he was waiting for someone to reach out and hold them.

Remus hesitated before speaking, his voice quieter this time. "James… where's Regulus?"

"Away," he said quietly. "He left me, I guess… but it's alright. Yeah, it's fine. 'Ta tudo ótimo."

"Sirius seems like he already knows."

"If Regulus isn't here… there's only one other place he could be. And Sirius knows it."

"Fucking finally, Jesus Christ, I couldn't take it any longer," Sirius' loud voice echoed down the corridor before he came into view, being pushed in a wheelchair by a nurse. 

He looked like hell. His left eye was swollen shut, the skin around it dark and puffy, while the other was sharp and restless, flicking between James and Remus. There were fresh stitches at the corner of his temple, a thin, angry line of black thread against his pale skin. His nose was set in place with a rigid splint, keeping it steady, though the bruising around it was already a sickly mix of purple and yellow. His lip was split, the dried blood cracking as he smirked. 

"You sure about that—?" the nurse began, the one with the truly dreadful shade of blonde.

"As I've already said, I've filed a report with the police about who mugged me," Sirius lied through his teeth, not missing a beat. "Thank you for all the concern and help, darling, but I sincerely hope I never see you again." He shifted in the chair, fingers twitching on the armrest like he was ready to bolt the second they let him. "Get me the fuck out of here," he grumbled at them, his voice rough with exhaustion.

When James explained that he would be going back with Remus when they left the hospital and asked what Sirius thought, the injured man simply flicked his good eye to Remus and nodded towards James.

The car park, mostly empty, allowed the winds to reach them through the open window of the car. The start of the day had the typical spring chill. It was still dark, but they knew it would begin to dawn soon. 

Remus kept his eyes fixed on the front of the car, where James was slightly bent over Sirius, speaking to him, while Sirius listened attentively.

"So, now we don't care that we might get sacked." He turned his gaze to Benjy, sitting next to him in the driver's seat. His friend tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, raising both eyebrows at him.

The whole night felt surreal, as if he was living through an experience meant for someone else. He had a beautiful injured man right in front of him, someone who was about to return to his flat. A student.

"I told you, you didn't have to come," Remus murmured, repeating what he had already said on the phone. His words hung in the air, swallowed by the low growl of the engine.

"I brought you here, and I'm taking you out of here," Benjy replied. He had stayed in the car for the nearly three hours while they were at the hospital. "And you're the one who got me the job, so if you get sacked, I'll be right there with you."

"But…you think I'm mad," Remus stated, turning his gaze back to the couple of friends in front of the car outside. James had his hand on the back of Sirius' neck.

"The moment you told me a student had broken down your door, was arrested by the police, and you didn't press charges… I thought you might have lost the plot," Benjy admitted.

"He… was detained, not arrested."

The two fell silent, and Remus felt his friend's burning gaze on him. He quickly looked away from Sirius to meet Benjy's eyes. 

"Oh, didn't you get him from the police station? It feels quite like the same bloody thing," Benjy's voice raised more in incredulity than anger.

"Shhh," Remus said, "they're right bleedin' there."

"Fucking hell. There's a student with a smashed-up face about to get in my car again, while the police are around the university we work at, doing their rounds, because someone reported to them that—"

"I know," Remus insisted. "It's ridiculous, I know. I'm obsessed with a 22-year-old student, and I've never even kissed him, but now he's in my hands, and I can't let him go."

Benjy looked shocked. "What? You didn't kiss him?" he almost shouted "Wait— what?" he spluttered. "Are you taking the piss? You mean to tell me you've been a wreck over this lad for months, and you didn't even kiss him? Not once? What the fuck have you been doing all this time, writing poetry and pining at the moon?"

"It's more complicated than that… He told me he liked my hands, and he disturbs me… Get it? And—and every time I'm around him, it's like my accent just goes mad."

"Your accent," he repeated, "your accent-" To say that Benjy stared at Remus like he'd grown a second head was an understatement—he looked ready to have him sectioned. "When you told me you'd broken up whatever it was with him three bloody months ago, I thought it was because you'd shagged him to hell and back and—"

"Well, this is our faculty, Padfoot," James' voice cut in from outside the car, followed by a low chuckle. "Such a choice of words—shagging, honestly."

They both turned their heads just in time to see James grinning, clearly amused, while Sirius stood next to him, one good eye fixed on them, lips curling into something dangerously close to a smirk despite the bruises on his face.

"If you two are quite finished whispering sweet nothings about me, maybe we can get on with it?" Sirius drawled, voice hoarse. "I mean, I know I'm irresistible when I'm battered and bleeding,  but might I suggest we save the shagging conversation for when I'm actually in your bed, professor?"

"How do you know they're talking about you, Pads?" James asked. "I reckon someone as professional and responsible as Lupin would want someone a little less chaotic than you." He laughed, nudging his head against Sirius. "Lie low at Lupin's, alright?"

Remus, slightly flushed, glanced at Benjy, who was clearly finding the whole situation amusing. "Drive the fucking car, please."

Everything was fine. Yes. There was a battered student sleeping in his flat, in his bed, while he made breakfast. As he had been doing for the past two days. Yes. But everything was fine.

The police were no longer hanging around Hogwarts. Apparently, the few students who had been detained hadn't been of any use to them and were released without trouble. It was as if the whole thing had been a brief, passing storm—loud, chaotic, but ultimately forgotten by everyone except those caught in it. No one knew that, over the weekend, two Hogwarts professors had taken a student to the hospital. Everything was fine. 

Except for the tightness in his chest that hadn't eased since he'd seen Sirius with blood all over his face, except for the way he kept listening for any sound from the bedroom, except for the way his hands shook slightly when he poured his tea—or the dull ache in his knee that refused to settle.

It was Monday. He had no lectures to teach, no meetings with his advisor, and no office hours. He had no idea whether Sirius had classes or if he was simply going to skive off, but everything was going fine. They hadn't talked much—Remus had put Sirius in his bed when they got back from the hospital, and Sirius had spent the weekend lying there, taking his medication, sleeping, and sulking. Each time Remus checked on him, he found Sirius awake, staring at some episode of Love Island, fingers tapping out a soundless rhythm against the duvet, like he was waiting for something he knew wouldn't come. And Remus knew it wasn't just about the pain or the fight. 

He'd seen James' message updating Sirius that Regulus hadn't come home. He'd tried to get Sirius to talk, but he'd been met with nothing but silence, a quiet so sharp it felt deliberate. That message had lodged itself in Remus' mind like a thorn, small but impossible to ignore. He told himself it wasn't his problem. That Sirius hadn't asked for his help. That he should let it go. But the more he tried, the heavier the air felt, thick with unsaid things.

Trying to stop himself from thinking about the same things over and over, he put some music on shuffle and went back to cooking.

He flipped a slice of toast in the pan, eyes flicking to the hallway, but there was still no sign of Sirius. Humming, he turned back to the stove, swaying slightly as he reached for a plate.

"But she caught me on the counter—" he mumbled tunelessly. "It wasn't me. Saw me bangin' on the sofa—" He gave a little shake of his shoulders. "It wasn't me. I even had her in the shower—" A spin of the spatula in his hand. "It wasn't me."

He was mid-step, halfway through a particularly enthusiastic sway of his hips, when a voice drawled from the doorway—

"You know, professor, if you wanted to put on a show, you could've woken me first."

"Shit," Remus stopped, letting the pan fall onto the stove with a clatter. He turned and found himself face-to-face with Sirius, wearing one of his jumpers, arms crossed, and a pair of jogger trousers slung loosely around his waist. 

A smile spread across his face, and he tilted his head against the doorframe. "Yeah. That's how I feel."

Remus watched Sirius as he cast a glance around the kitchen. It was a narrow, galley-style space. The layout was compact—black countertops met white cupboards, and dark wooden floorboards, scuffed and well-trodden, spoke of a flat that had seen years of quiet living.

On the left, a built-in gas hob sat above the oven, with a few essentials scattered nearby—olive oil, a chopping board, a couple of spice jars. A green tea towel hung from the oven handle. To the right, a steel sink held a drying rack stacked with a couple of plates. At the far end of the kitchen, a tall, narrow glass door stood ajar, leading out to a small patio just visible in the pale morning light.

Remus blinked, slightly caught off guard, and glanced down at the pan still sizzling on the hob. "You… you're up."

Sirius stepped further into the kitchen, moving slowly but with purpose. "Barely," he muttered, rolling his shoulders. "Your cooking must be more exciting than I thought. Bit of a dance number to go with breakfast?"

Remus flushed, his eyes flicking briefly to the floor. "Wasn't… it wasn't a performance," he mumbled. "Just a distraction, that's all."

Sirius' lips curled into a half-smirk, his eyes glinting with amusement—and something else Remus couldn't quite name. "Right," he said, leaning against the doorframe like he owned the place. "Because you don't perform for anyone, do you?"

"Well," Remus began, trying for nonchalance, "you could've asked me to dance if that's what you were after." The words were barely out before he regretted them, colour creeping up his neck.  "Instead, you keep invitin' me to illegal fights," he added quickly.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, the teasing still there, sharp and soft all at once. "Hmm. I'll bear that in mind for next time. But for now… what's for breakfast, professor?"

Remus turned back to the stove. "Bit of a fry-up," he said, flipping a rasher of bacon. "Eggs, beans, toast, sausage. Mushrooms if I don't burn 'em." He opened the oven briefly. "Hash browns in there." 

Sirius gave a low whistle. "Blimey. What's the occasion?" 

Remus shrugged, not looking up. "Thought you could do with somethin' proper."

"Proper sounds good," Sirius said quietly.

"There's not much sun out, but it's not raining—go on, sit out there for a bit. Bit of fresh air might do you good."

"Right, well, I suppose I should let you get back to your… performance," Sirius said, that teasing edge slipping back into his voice.

Remus let out a short breath, trying to hide the smile tugging at his lips as he focused on the pan again. "You're impossible, you are."

"Only when I feel like it," Sirius quipped, then hesitated for a beat. "Thanks, by the way. For looking after me."

"You don't need to thank me."

When Remus glanced back at him, Sirius was suddenly right beside him—close enough to feel the warmth of him as he passed through the narrow kitchen toward the patio. Their eyes met as Sirius stepped behind him, and Remus barely had time to register it before a hand brushed lightly across his waist in passing. Then, Sirius was gone, out the door and into the fresh air.

Remus took a deep breath and switched off the hob and oven. He'd already brought out the plates and cutlery before Sirius had appeared in the kitchen, and now, he headed outside with the food. 

"Need a hand?"

"No, you're alright,"  he replied, his gaze flicking briefly to Sirius, who was watching him closely from where he sat in the wooden chair. "Just need to grab the hash browns from the oven and get the tea—or would you rather juice? Bit of coffee?"

"Tea is grand," Sirius said, and as though he hadn't heard Remus before, he wandered after Remus into the kitchen, barefoot, sleeves pushed up, still looking half-asleep. He picked up the kettle while Remus pulled the tray from the oven.

They headed back out to the patio together. The ground was paved with large terracotta tiles, a scattering of tiny weeds grew in the cracks, the kind Remus kept meaning to pull but never quite got around to. A small round dining table stood at the centre, surrounded by folding wooden chairs with yellow cushions. Opposite that was a little seating area with a rattan-style loveseat and a matching single chair, both with green cushions.

Around the edges of the patio, ceramic pots and planters brimmed with early spring growth. Clumps of daffodils and tulips nodded gently in the breeze, in bright colours.

They sat across from each other, the absurdly generous breakfast spread out between them, and a tension hanging in the air that Remus hadn't quite felt before—because Sirius was wearing his jumper, sitting in his chair, on the patio of his flat.

Remus' eyes drifted to Sirius' hands—long-fingered, a little battered, knuckles roughened from years of throwing punches. They were bare now, stripped of their usual rings, and looked oddly vulnerable as he poured himself a cup of tea. The sleeve of the jumper had slipped over his hand, the cuff drooping past his knuckles.

His gaze travelled up the baggy knitted jumper—deep, earthy tones, mostly brown with a subtle check or crosshatch pattern woven through. It was far too big on Sirius, hanging off one shoulder slightly and exposing the sharp line of his collarbone and the faint purple veins beneath pale skin.

Then Remus looked at his face. The bruises were beginning to fade, but only just. His left eye was still swollen, though less so than before, the bruising spread in deep hues of purple and yellow. The splint was still in place, fixed along the bridge with surgical tape. The skin beneath looked sore and discoloured, bruising spreading across the upper cheekbones and a healing split on his lip was still a raw pink. It should have made him look awful. Somehow, it didn't.

He tried to stop staring at Sirius and busied himself with the breakfast instead, eating slowly, chewing with deliberate care. But when he glanced up again, he caught Sirius' gaze fixed on the cane leaning against the loveseat beside them.

The question was hanging in the air, even though Sirius hadn't said a word.

"My mam gave it to me over Christmas."

"Why?"

"I've got a bad knee," Remus said, his tone carrying more weight than the words alone. "It's been like that since my school days at Hogwarts."

"I never noticed."

"I've learnt how to manage it, see. I know when I can push through and when I've got to give it a rest. It's… not that bad, really. But my mam saw me limping when I was at theirs—though I'd only gone and stubbed my toe on the other leg," he added with a wry chuckle, glancing at the walking stick.

It had a curved handle, dark brown with a smooth, polished finish. Just below the handle, there was a small decorative metal ring. The bottom had a black rubber tip to stop it from slipping. Simple, sturdy, and a bit old-fashioned if he was being honest — just the way he liked it.

"I'm sensing a 'but'," Sirius said, cradling his mug of tea in both hands.

"But, as infuriating as it is, she's not wrong," Remus admitted. "Riding my bike to Hogwarts can get the knee all swollen, and standing all day giving lectures… well, it would help to use it now and then, just to take the edge off, y'know? Because one day, when I'm older, I might properly need it." He paused, voice quieter. "So yeah. Mam's right, isn't she."

"So you hate her," Sirius concluded calmly.

Remus' head snapped up, eyes wide in surprise. "I don't hate my mam. I love her more than anything."

"But you resent her," Sirius said, as if diagnosing something.

"No—I mean… no, I can't resent her."

"But you do."

"No. I can't," Remus insisted. "I don't let myself, see? My mam's done everythin' for me. Everythin'. She might be a bit much sometimes, aye, but she's the love of my life."

Sirius kept watching him.

"I hated my mother," he said, matter-of-fact. "Still do, really. I still resent her. Sometimes, I forget parents can actually be nice. As if James' parents are like… I don't know, a loophole in the system or something."

Remus glanced down at his plate and took another bite of toast, chewing slowly, like the words were still settling in his mouth. He sipped his tea before speaking again.

"I resent my tad, I think," he admitted, voice quieter now. "He means well, I know he does. But he's always been… pushy. Never let things lie. Wants things done a certain way, on his terms. It's like he sees everythin' I've managed and somehow still finds a way to make me feel like it's not quite enough." He scraped a bit of grilled tomato onto his fork, gaze fixed on the plate, and added, almost as an afterthought, "He loves me, I know that. But after everythin' that's happened to me—what my mam and he went through when I was a kid, and… later on—I get the feelin' he still wants more from me than what I've got to give."

"Did you visit them at Christmas? Right after breaking my heart?"

"I didn't break your heart," Remus muttered. "And it seems to me you were havin' quite a bit of fun over the break on all those beaches in Brazil—" He realised his mistake the moment Sirius broke into a wide grin.

"Were you stalking me, Professor Lupin?"

Remus had, in fact, spent an unhealthy amount of time obsessively scrolling through Sirius' Instagram. The profile, of course, was completely open, so he'd seen every photo Sirius had posted on his feed. He hadn't dared look at the stories, though—he knew that would leave proof he'd been watching.

"I was in Wales, yeah," he said, ignoring the way Sirius laughed.

"Whereabouts in Wales, then?" Sirius decided to put him out of his misery.

"South. Newport... Casnewydd."

"Did you like growing up there?" Sirius asked. "Or do you prefer London life?"

"Aye, I loved it there. Still do, mind," Remus said with a small smile. "Used to go nearly every day, like, except Wednesdays and Sundays when it was closed—this little library in Rogerstone. Nipped in before comin' back here, actually. Still proper quiet and smelled just like home. Nothin' here smells like home," he added, glancing at Sirius.

"Nothing feels like home?" Sirius murmured.

Remus bit the inside of his cheek. A nervous twitch flickered at the corner of his mouth. "Some things do. My mam taught me how to bind books when I was little, so I'd have my own special copies of my favourites. And every time I bind another book, here feels… right. Like home."

Sirius went quiet. The silence between them wasn't empty—it was full. Of unsaid things, of maybe's and nearly's. Only the rustle of leaves in the wind and the scent of green things hung between them.

"The book you gave me—"

"Felt like home to me." His voice was low but steady, like the words had been waiting patiently for their moment.

They looked at one another. Sirius' gaze hadn't lost any of its intensity, not even after being punched half to death.

"I'm obsessed with you, Moony," he said, barely above a whisper, but somehow it landed right in Remus' ear.

"Sirius-"

A soft rumble of thunder rolled in the distance, and a few drops of rain splashed onto the terracotta tiles. His hairs stood on end each time a raindrop landed on his skin.

Sirius glanced up at the sky and started to stand, reaching for the plates on the table. "Come on, we'd better get these inside before—"

But Remus reached out and caught him gently by the sleeve of his jumper. Sirius stopped, his eyes flicking down to the hand tugging at his arm, then back up to meet Remus' eyes.

The rain came in earnest now, cold and insistent, drumming against the table and tiles, darkening the fabric of their clothes. Remus rose slowly to his feet, his hand gliding up Sirius' arm until it came to rest against his cheek.

He cupped his face tenderly, his thumb brushing a raindrop from Sirius' skin as their foreheads nearly touched. The rain clung to his eyelashes, trickled down his neck, soaked his collar—but he didn't move, didn't care.

"Four months ago now," he breathed, voice shaking like he'd been holding it in all this time, "you asked me to kiss you. Just—tell me you still want it. Tell me you still want me. Because I swear to God, I feel like I'm going to come apart if I don't kiss you."

Sirius didn't say a word.

And the look he gave him might actually kill him—because nothing in Remus' life would ever be the same after Sirius Black. Because nothing, nothing, in his life would ever come close to this. To those grey-glass eyes that would never leave his mind, and the feel of his skin beneath his palm, already etched into him.

Sirius felt like every scar on his body, carved into him—and he had never loved those scars more than he did right in that moment. Sirius felt like a scar that would cling to him forever. He felt Sirius everywhere—even though he was only touching his face, it was like Sirius had truly carved himself into him.

And then Sirius pressed his body against Remus'—so slowly it was torture, so gently it felt like madness—until they were touching, entirely, from head to toe.

It felt like Sirius had embedded himself into him. Like Remus had been branded by him, filled up with nothing but Sirius Black and all that wanting. Like Sirius had felt the entirety of Remus. Like Remus had been marked by every look, every word, every maddening inch of him. Like every time they met, Sirius was putting him under a spell.

And the ache. The craving. The madness.

God, the madness.

And then...Sirius just leaned in and kissed him.

Not sweet. Not soft. Desperate. Slow. Like he was starving. Possessive. Wretched.

Rain poured in sheets, clinging to their skin, sliding between their mouths, but Sirius didn't stop—he devoured it, devoured him, like he could drink Remus down, swallow him whole. And Remus let him. Welcomed it. Wanted to disappear inside him, wanted Sirius to crawl beneath his skin and stay there forever.

The undoing.

The feeling of Remus undoing right under Sirius' touch. At that moment, his classes didn't matter, nor did his job, or the promise he'd made to himself and his parents—that he'd stay away from trouble…

He was welcoming his undoing.

And just like that, the silence was broken—not by thunder, not by rain, but by the sound of something finally falling into place.

Chapter Text

"I just can't wrap my head 'round the idea that you'd actually want me."

The husky voice that had been driving Sirius over the edge over the past few days whispered against his lips. Remus' amber eyes looked so bright and shiny in the light of the overcast day, raindrops falling across his face, the rain making his sandy hair appear darker.

Sirius looked at Remus as if he were mad— and God, maybe Remus was.

Remus had helped him hide from the police. He had taken him, a student, to the hospital in the dead of night. He had brought him to his own flat, kept him hidden like something precious. Any of it, hell, all of it, could cost him his job, his future, his life as he knew it. And he was doing it all for Sirius.

It didn't make sense. None of it did. They weren't supposed to be like this. Remus was meant to be just some uptight professor who couldn't hold Sirius' attention for more than a minute. Someone he'd walk past in the corridor without so much as a second glance. And now Remus was the only person he would notice in a crowded hallway.

Was that insanity? Did they even know each other well enough for all this? If not, then why did Sirius feel like his chest was splitting open, like something inside him was crawling out of his ribs just to reach Remus?

Sirius kissed him again, and, even though it hurt, he didn't stop.

"I'm a bit mental about you, Moony," he murmured. And it hurt everywhere.

And Remus had the nerve to ask him that, as if there was any other answer besides an absolutely fucking yes.

Yes, he really wanted him.

Yes, he still thought about him far more than was remotely reasonable.

Yes, he was utterly, stupidly, ridiculously crazy for a professor at his fucking university.

Remus let out a soft noise, almost painful, somewhere between a moan and a gasp, and his eyes fluttered shut, restless behind his wet lashes. Their foreheads touched, their lips only centimetres apart, close enough that Sirius kept brushing his against them like he couldn't help himself.

"You shouldn't be sayin' things like that," he whispered, eyes still closed as if the words physically hurt. "You shouldn't mean 'em."

"But I  do," Sirius said. "I do."

"You shouldn't feel this way about someone you barely know."

"I feel like I do know you."

"It's the madness talkin'."

"Then let me be mad."

Remus' large hand slid up his body to cup his face, his thumb brushing gently over Sirius' lower lip. He opened his eyes, and now he looked at Sirius as if he were the mad one. And he probably was, too.

The rain continued to fall, just light enough that they could stand there, but heavy enough that they were soaked through, the cold clinging to their skin. But Sirius barely felt the rain on his skin, the ache in his face, or anything at all except the touch of Remus' skin against his. And the way Remus rested his forehead against his so gently, even though it wasn't anywhere near the stitches Sirius had received on the side of his head. The way he was careful not to press against Sirius' splinted nose. The tenderness. The longing.

"This is goin' to ruin me," Remus said quietly. Not angry. Just honest.

Sirius blinked, throat tightening. "Then let it ruin me first."

Remus let out a pained sigh. He looked like he was sinking under the weight of everything, as if Sirius' words were dragging him back to reality. The reality where they were a professor and a student, tangled up in an illegal underground fight club. The sheer ridiculousness of it all was almost laughable. Almost.

"You're so full of life. You're young—" Remus paused, drawing in a shaky breath. "You shouldn't get caught up in someone like me. Bit worn round the edges."

"You're 29. You're hardly ancient—"

"I feel it. Isn't that what matters?"

"Oh, here we go. Someone get the violin. Should I knit you a blanket and make you a nice cup of tea, grandad?"

Remus laughed softly, still so close to him, his breath warmed Sirius. "Oh, I see. I feel like a fossil, and you're determined to dig me up."

"You realise you're not a fossil… yet. Right, Moony?"

The silence between their words hung in the air, broken only by the gentle patter of rain on the terracotta tiles and the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze. The smell of fresh rain mingled with the earthy scent of the plants around them, but it still wasn't stronger than the scent of Remus.

"I know it seems like I'm overreactin'—"

"Next, you'll be telling me you remember the war."

"Yeah, yeah, keep talkin'. But… soon you'll realise that you got ahead of yourself—"

"Piss off, Moony. That's my job, yeah?" Sirius stepped right up, lifting onto his tiptoes to meet Remus' gaze head-on, eyes burning. "Fuck you if you think I'm just going to let you vanish again. You've got me, here and now, and I'm not fucking going anywhere. I don't care if you think this is mad, or that we don't know each other, or that this is some shared fever dream. I want to know you. I want to kiss you, even if every inch of my face screams when I do. So are you with me, or do you want to forget me that badly?"

"You think I haven't tried to forget you? I can't." Remus said, his hand closing firmly around Sirius' throat, possessively. "You think this is mad? It is."

They stared at one another, breathless, Remus' hand deliciously wrapped around Sirius' neck, and with a low, guttural noise, he yanked Sirius against him and kissed him like he was trying to drown in him. A desperate, feral sort of kiss.

Sirius clung to Remus, throwing a leg around his hip like he was trying to climb him, desperate to get closer, closer still. Remus caught him by the thigh with a groan, hoisting him up and grinding their hips together in a messy rhythm that made Sirius gasp into his mouth. 

A few days ago, he'd felt absolutely dreadful. Miserable, aching, like the pain might never end. And now, it was as if all of that had never existed. Remus filled every corner of his senses. Those big hands gripping under his thigh, his arse, making him feel completely consumed.

He grabbed Remus by the neck, fingers digging in just enough to make him gasp, nails pressing into his skin. His tongue slipped into Remus' mouth, teeth catching on his lip, bruising, biting, clashing. It was messy, breathless, everything at once. He felt like he could kiss Remus for a thousand years and still be fucking starving for it.

They stumbled backwards, mouths on every bit of skin they could reach, lips sore and desperate. Nearly falling, but never quite, they made it into the kitchen—Remus' hand fisted tightly in the back of Sirius' jumper, while Sirius clutched at his soaked hair like letting go would end him.

Half-walking, half-crashing through the flat, they knocked into corners and counters, dragging each other forward by the hips, the collar, by sheer want.

A mug crashed to the floor in the kitchen. Neither of them cared. Sirius' back hit the fridge with a dull thud, and he didn't even flinch. Clothes were shoved up, belts yanked open, fingers slipping under damp layers just to feel heat against heat.

In the living room, Sirius finally registered how cold his bare feet were on the floorboards, but the thought was fleeting. He let Remus tug his jumper over his head, the frantic haze pausing only for a breath as it was pulled free and dropped. A pile of books scattered as they bumped into the sofa, pages fanning out across the rug.

Sirius barely had time to breathe before Remus shoved him up against the hallway wall, the force making his chest ache as he was pressed into it. Remus' kiss was sweet but suffocating, as if he'd just woken from a coma and Sirius was the first sign of life he'd felt in years.

And God, Sirius loved the way those hands moved over him, so possessive, deliberate, as if Remus physically couldn't bear to let go, not even for a second. There was something intoxicating in being wanted like that, in knowing that someone couldn't bring himself to keep his hands off him, that letting go would feel, to Remus, like falling back into that coma.

"Please, fuck me, professor," Sirius whispered, his voice low and strained, trembling with the raw need he felt.

A hand flattened against the wall beside his face, and Remus was towering over him. His eyes, dark and fevered, locked onto Sirius', watching him like prey, and he didn't look away, not for a second, even as he tilted his head and sank his teeth into his neck. Marking him in a way that was utterly mind-fucking. Claiming him.

Remus' belt hanging loose and forgotten. Sirius dragged him by the waistband towards the bedroom, fevered and shaking, like he might combust if they didn't get there now.

The moment Remus hit the mattress, hair wild, breath ragged, eyes wide with a wrecked kind of awe, he just stared at Sirius like he couldn't believe he was real.

And Remus—

The phone rang.

Shrill. Insistent. Fucking outrageous.

Sirius would've ignored it. Christ, he'd have chucked the thing out the window without a second thought if he hadn't glanced at the screen.

The phone he'd left behind on the bed when he got up to find Remus. And there it was. A message from James.

Clear. Shocking. Utterly fucking maddening.

"What the fuck?"

"I must have finally lost my mind, because I appear to be hallucinating," Sirius announced, storming into the Student Centre basement without so much as a hello or warning. "There is simply no way I've just received this absolutely ridiculous message telling me I'm out of the fucking club."

He looked around at everyone. Every single one of them was staring back at him in stunned silence.

"Padfoot—" Marlene began, voice hard. James, seated right beside her, just stared at him, his eyes fixed on the bruises across his face.

"Because it's not actually possible that this is true," Sirius cut in, half-laughing, half-deranged, waving his phone about. "So someone tell me I'm hallucinating or possessed or something, because there's no sodding way this is real."

"You're not out of the club," Marlene said quickly, standing up. "Just—"

"You're out of the rest of the fights for this term," Peter cut in, carefully, like Sirius didn't even get a say in it.

"Oh, and who decided that, then?"

"We just voted Dolohov out," Marlene said, visibly tense. "He's officially banned. And everyone agreed not to replace your fight, so whoever wins between James and Mulciber goes straight through to the final, since your bout with Dolohov won't count for anything."

"If Dolohov's been disqualified, then I've won," Sirius said, voice low and deliberate. And since the room had gone dead silent, it echoed louder than it should've. "I should be in the semi-finals."

"I mean, Pads…" Peter glanced around. Everyone from the Hogwarts Fight Club committee was there, along with all 19 fighters, now that Sirius had finally shown his face. Slytherin would have to recruit someone sharpish to fill Dolohov's spot and bring the number back up to 20.

The whole system was dead easy to figure out once Sirius started getting involved, and it was even easier to take over the whole club once James and Marlene joined in too. They brought Peter along to handle the behind-the-scenes stuff, and from there it was game over.

For most of the term, the club ran fights throughout the uni year. Matches were usually organised by height and weight in the non-elimination rounds, but the rules were bendy at best and honestly, a bit shit. So yeah, sometimes you'd end up scrapping with someone twice your size. Not exactly fair, but then again, it was an illegal fight club. Hardly the place to cry foul.

The Knockout kicked off in March, with the top eight fighters, ranked by total points, qualifying. From there, four made it into The Duelling, and the last two into the big one: the Battle of Hogwarts.

There were a few trophies too, like one for the "house" that racked up the most points. They'd tally each fighter's score, and the house with the highest total took the House Cup. Usually went to Gryffindor, no surprise there.

When they first got involved, the club was mostly full of final-year students and big lads at their peak, like this was the best their life was ever going to get, trying to cling to a bit of glory before the real world knocked them flat. But those blokes either finished their courses or just faded into the background. The moment Sirius and the others walked in, the game changed. Their influence was instant, their skill undeniable. By the time those older students left, no one even remembered their names.

Sirius, James, and Marlene became the standard. The reason everyone else joined. Even fighters from other houses started shaping their styles after them. They weren't just part of the club anymore—they were it.

And now all these new fighters, this fucking committee, who were absolute nobodies before he walked into a dead, dull club full of dull people and turned it into something worth talking about, made it exciting again…they thought they could tell him what to do? Jog on.

"Enlighten me, Wormtail," Sirius said, voice dipped in venom.

The roles in the inner circle were passed down from student to student, usually, an older student would take a fresher under their wing, training them up until they moved up. At the moment, all positions were mostly held by second-years or above, but Sirius knew Peter had already taken on a few freshers as protégés.

"It's for the best, yeah? Just— just look at you."

Sirius let out a bitter laugh, sharp and mirthless. Then, just for a second, his gaze snapped to James, who was still dead quiet, arms crossed, jaw clenched like stone.

"Actually, I can't see shit because some arsehole punched a pile of rocks into my face," Sirius snapped, eyes darting toward Mulciber, who sat next to Avery, the club's Matchmaker & Scout. "His mate breaks the rules, and I get punished? Why is even this cunt here?"

"Oi! That was not my fault!" Mulciber blurted out. "I didn't know he was gonna do that—"

"I'm with the Mad Dog," Gideon said, rocking back in his chair, his ginger hair falling in his face. "This is proper rubbish, this is. He shouldn't be out over this."

"He's bloody wrecked, look at his face," Fabian groaned straightaway.

"Oh, come off it, Fabian," Gideon snapped, grinning. "You're telling me we're just supposed to stand by and let the rules get bent because Mulciber's mate wants to play dirty? Nah, that's not how it works." 

"Again, not my fucking fault," Mulciber growled as his white face flushed red. He had a square jaw and a mop of scruffy brown hair that made him look permanently disgruntled.

"Shut yer trap, Gid," Fabian shot back, rolling his eyes. "This ain't the time for you to go playing knight in bloody shining armour. Let it be, yeah?"

"It's proper out of order," Stubby Boardman muttered from his seat. Some people said he looked like a rougher, uglier version of Sirius. Not that he saw the resemblance. He was the club's referee. Peter called the fights and declared the winners, but Stubby was the one who kept things in check during matches and stepped in when they got out of hand. He clearly hadn't done the best job this time, but since he was siding with Sirius, he figured he'd let it slide. "If he wants a go, we shouldn't be penalising him just 'cause he got jumped, yeah?"

"It's not a punishment. It's a safety issue," Trelawney began to explain. She was seated in the chair she'd decorated when she was made Vice Chair of the club. She peered over her glasses like she was predicting someone's doom. "If we let him fight, I fear the stars will align for catastrophe. Mars is in a volatile house, and the omens are very loud."

"Oh, piss off, Trelawney," Sirius muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Not helping, Sybill," Peter murmured, rubbing his temple and very pointedly not looking at Sirius.

"Black and the others aren't entirely mistaken, mind you," said Zabini coolly, one brow arched, long jet-black hair slipping over a warm, dark-skinned shoulder.  "It does rather feel like a punishment, if he's so dreadfully keen to fight. But look at the state of you…What if someone clocks you and you drop like a Victorian fainting lady?"

Rosier was seated just beside her, not even glancing in his direction as he fiddled with his phone, probably texting someone Sirius didn't want to think about. The basement student centre was dimly lit, with bare stone walls and a musty smell that hung thick in the air. Everyone sat in a circle of mismatched chairs, having already cast their votes to expel Dolohov from the club. Sirius couldn't help but wonder if the vote had been unanimous, or if Rosier had, in fact, voted to keep Dolohov in.

"Didn't you nearly get a concussion?" Frank chimed in, sitting with Alice perched on his lap. The two fighters, like everyone else, had their eyes fixed on Sirius' face. "You could actually die, bruv—"

"I'd love to see anyone try," Sirius said, folding his arms. "I want to keep fighting. The rules are clear. Dolohov's been disqualified, so I win. I'll take on whoever wins between Prongs and Mulciber."

"I suppose…" Peter murmured, his voice hesitant. "There's still time before the fight, if you're better by then."

"'Course, Wormy," Sirius said more softly now. He noticed James' expression shift ever so slightly, just a faint tilt of the eyebrow, like he'd clocked Sirius. "I just want the rules we all agreed on to mean something. We all come down here, risk injury, risk getting caught. Because this means something to us."

Truth be told, it didn't mean that much to Sirius. He didn't give a toss about most of the people here, or whether they got nicked by the police. He couldn't care less about university. But he did care that he'd built something. That he'd made this into something people gave a shit about. He'd made it what it was and he'd be damned if his nutcase cousin was going to take that away from him.

"He's got a point, yeah?" Peter said, looking round at the others. "Yeah?"

"And he didn't actually get a concussion," Bertha Jorkins mumbled, round cheeks flushed as she gave a small shrug. She was the club's treasurer and always hovered around Peter during the fights, clipboard in hand.

"The few rules we do have need to be followed," Sirius went on. "I didn't fight for fun. I fought because I care about this. Because I care about fighting fair. So if Dolohov breaks the rules and I still get benched, that tells me the rules don't matter, and they have to matter. Or everything we've built goes straight to shit. Don't you all care about what we've built?"

He let his gaze sweep across the room, watching the others soak in his words. He held back a smile as he saw their expressions shift.

"We need structure," Zabini agreed, cool as ever. "We've had too many problems lately."

"If you're really better by the time your fight comes round—" Peter began.

Sirius shrugged nonchalantly. "Brilliant—"

"You're not fighting." James finally spoke, his voice sharp, cutting through the air. The room fell deadly silent the moment he did, his words so firm, so final. 

Sirius fell quiet. He turned his head towards the other side of the room, where James was sitting, elbows resting on his knees, watching him steadily over the top of his black-rimmed glasses. 

"You don't get to decide that."  

"It's out of the fucking question, Sirius," James went on, low and unflinching.

Sirius tilted his head slightly, taking James in. He knew that look, James' high-and-mighty expression, like no one else in the world could touch him. It almost never used to be aimed at Sirius.

"You don't get to decide that," he said again, louder this time, sharper. "You don't get to tell me what I can or can't do."

James didn't flinch.

"I do when you're being a reckless arse," James shot back, still not even rising from his seat. "God knows what could've happened to you… Look at the state of you. You've got stitches, a broken bone, and you're one knock away from a concussion. You're not fighting. Não adianta teimar com isso. Você não vai lutar, caralho."

"I won my match," Sirius snapped. "I earned the next round."

"Você não entende? Você não ganhou nada além de uma surra —You didn't win, Sirius," James said, voice calm. "You got jumped and nearly hospitalised. That's not winning. That's surviving."

Sirius' nostrils flared. "Oh, piss off with your bleeding-heart speech—"

"This isn't about pride or proving anything," James said, still not flinching, not the least bit fazed.

"Oh, because you'd know all about pride, wouldn't you? You're the picture of humility."

James ignored the jab. "This is about not dying in some basement fight because you're too stubborn to sit still. The answer is no."

"You're under the impression you can stop me?" Sirius stared him down, jaw tight.

James considered him for a moment. He looked down at his own hands, lips pressed together, then stood.

"I guess it's time for the club to vote, then," he said, voice calm but deadly serious. "I vote that Sirius sits out for the rest of the term," he said slowly, "and that if he tries to fight, he's banned. For good."

Silence. Hard stares.

Even Rosier looked rattled, his thumbs now still over his phone screen. Peter looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole, his shoulders hunched, eyes darting anywhere but at Sirius. Trelawney lowered her gaze and fiddled with the rings on her fingers, as though trying to divine something from the silence.

Fabian sat backwards on his chair with his chin resting on the top rail, let out a long breath, but said nothing. Ludo Bagman lit a cigarette with a small click, the smoke curling upwards, unnoticed, and Marlene immediately nicked it from his fingers.

The Slytherins were all quiet as well. They talked a lot of smack behind their backs, but not a single one spoke up at that moment — not Avery, not the Carrows.

Because when James spoke, it shifted something. Like the gravity of the room had realigned around him. He didn't have to shout. He didn't posture. He didn't beg. His voice, firm, low and certain, was enough to make everyone pause. That was what James had. That quiet, rooted leadership. The kind people trusted, even when they didn't like what he was saying. Especially then.

It wasn't like Sirius' spark. Sirius burned. He had heat and fire and defiance, he could set an entire room alight — but that wasn't the same. James held the room still. And that, Sirius realised bitterly, was something fire couldn't do.

Not when the vote was being called. Not when everyone was already turning towards James.

And Sirius— Sirius wanted to leap across the room and throttle James, and in the same breath, he wanted to throw his arms around him. He hated him. He loved him. He couldn't fucking breathe.

"One vote," James said firmly, raising his hand.

One by one, hands went up.

Peter. Frank. Alice. Fabian. Gideon. Zabini. Rosier. Even Stubby bloody Boardman. 

All the fighters. One after the other. Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Slytherin. All of them.

And finally… Marlene.

She hesitated. Her fingers twitched in her lap. Sirius looked at her,  just once. That was all it took. She looked back. Took in the bruises, the cuts, the bandages.

Marlene raised her hand.

Sirius didn't speak. For a long moment, he couldn't. His heart dropped like a stone to the floor, heavy, frozen, final.

"Very well," he said flatly. "So that's it, then. If I refuse to play along with this nonsense, you're all prepared to ban one of your top fighters from this little pit, yeah?"

"Padfoot, this is—" James' voice was gentler now, but Sirius wasn't having it.

"Oh, save it," Sirius cut in, voice suddenly sharp, bitter. "Call it concern, call it honour, slap some bloody rules on it if that helps you sleep, but keeping me out of the ring isn't going to magic Regulus back, is it? You didn't fix him. And you're not fixing me either."

The words hung there, brutal and deliberate.

James stared at him. And Sirius saw just a flicker of how much it landed.

"Fuck all of you." He didn't wait for a reply. He simply turned, gave them the finger, and walked out, flipping them off all the way to the door.

Sirius leaned against the glass outside Euston Square station, tucked just slightly out of the wind and the spitting rain, the overhang offering him a bit of shelter. He fished a cigarette from the inside pocket of his leather jacket. Beneath it, he was still wearing Remus' warm jumper.

His oversized sunglasses made the day look even gloomier than it really was, as if the world had thrown on a filter just to match his mood. It was a chilly, wet day, not quite humid, just a bit damp. The kind of weather that seeped into your sleeves and clung to your jeans. He watched people rush past, stepping through puddles without much care, umbrellas still up against the light drizzle that hung in the air.

He lit the cigarette, feeling the brief heat of the flame near his fingers before it caught and the lighter snapped shut. Drawing deeply, he pulled the smoke from the burning tobacco into his mouth, inhaling it into his lungs. He held it there until it burned slightly and then finally exhaled through his mouth, the smoke drifting upwards in front of him.

The cigarette warmed him up, but not as much as Remus' clothes did. He curled his hand, fist tightening around the front of the jumper, breathing in Remus' scent. He smoked again from the cigarette in his right hand, drawing the smoke upwards, ensuring the cigarette's smell wouldn't dare touch that jumper and erase the intoxicating fragrance of lavender and cinnamon. He rested the back of his head against the glass wall and closed his eyes slightly, almost able to feel Remus' kisses on his skin, the smell of Remus' skin against his, creating a scent just for the two of them.

"On a scale from one to 'Sirius Black,' how unhinged are we today?"

Sirius opened his eyes, staring right at Mary and Lily, both huddled under a big yellow umbrella.

"Are you two always together?" he shot back, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Is this your idea of a date, then?"

"You sent me your location and an emoji that looked suspiciously like James, followed by a bloody skull," Mary replied, her arm linked with Lily's, "thought, yeah, best not show up alone in case I needed reinforcements or, like… a priest."

"Don't," Lily said quickly, cutting him off before he could open his mouth, "don't mention the Fleabag priest again." Sirius pulled a dramatic pout, but Lily was already glaring at Mary. "Don't encourage him."

"Forgot he was banned from talking about priests," Mary muttered under her breath.

Sirius took another drag, blowing the smoke away from his jumper again with a lazy flick of his wrist.

Both of them looked over at him again, their eyes scanning his face, trying to get a better sense of the damage behind the sunglasses. But with his hair falling over the stitches at the side of his head and his split lip already half-healed, there wasn't all that much to see.

Now their attention had shifted to the narrow, straight splint moulded over the bridge of his nose, stretching just above the nostrils. His nose was still swollen, and the bruises under his eyes gave him a bit of a raccoon look hidden by the sunglasses. It was starting to ache again, if he was honest, probably because, careful as they'd tried to be, he'd been far more focused on kissing Remus than on keeping his poor nose protected.

"But yeah…" Mary continued, a slight furrow in her forehead, "…proper dodgy messages. Peter, Marls, and, swear on my life, Stubby Boardman all sent panicked texts."

"Boardman obviously wants to shag me," Sirius shrugged, still sulking about the priest ban. 

"He did ask for your number," Mary added with a smirk, pushing her curls out of her face as the wind swept past them.

Lily arched an eyebrow. "Why did he even have your number?"

"We went out, like, twice," Mary said, shrugging. "Thought he looked a bit like Sirius. My bad."

"So you went for the discount version of Sirius," Lily said, her nose scrunching like she'd just caught a whiff of something odd. 

"I'll take it," Sirius grinned, flicking ash onto the pavement. "Cheers for the compliment."

"Please, do not go out with Boardman," Lily rolled her eyes. "You lot can do better than that. Both of you."

"Well, I called it off when he tried to line up a third date," Mary went on.

"And I think he's just looking for an excuse to swoop in and rescue me, the dramatic sod. Shit, that might be Fabian though... or was it Gideon?" Sirius added.

"Oh sure, is there anyone who doesn't want a go on you, babes?" Mary snorted.

"You did when we met," Sirius shot back, lips curled in that infuriating smirk that always made him look half-right and half-full-of-shit.

"And then I heard you talking," Mary fired back. "But what can I say, you've got that whole tortured soul thing going on. Very 'I could fix him' energy."

Sirius laughed, shaking his head at the irony of Mary's words. "Something like that."

"Apparently," Lily cut in, "you and James had some kind of one-off and that we should probably call the authorities before you light Hogwarts on fire. Or each other." 

"And what's the verdict, then?" Sirius asked with mock innocence, eyes wide and theatrical like he was auditioning for EastEnders. 

The cigarette sat halfway down, balanced between his index and middle fingers. He brought it to his lips, only for Lily to reach out, snatch it from him, and stub it out without blinking.

She narrowed her eyes. "You're suspiciously calm. Maybe we call the coppers, then?" 

"At this rate, I'm not even sure," Mary said with a shrug.

"I don't want to see any of them right now," Sirius said. "Marlene's been blowing up my phone, Peter's bricking it that I'll mess up the fights and ruin his precious income, and James…James just asked what kind of fish I want for Friday dinner because it's a religious holiday in Brazil. Which," he took a breath, "is actually worse than if he was asking me about it. Because he's pretending everything's fine, and that's what Regulus always did. And… fuck, you know. I can't see him right now."

"Can you even see properly right now?" Lily asked, frowning as a double-decker rumbled past behind them and a wave of students poured out of the station, heading towards the uni. "When James got back from the hospital, he was a wreck. He said you looked bad. Said if you'd been any worse, he'd have chucked the whole club in for you."

Sirius blinked hard and let out a shaky breath. His chest tightened as he pushed himself off the glass wall behind him, stepping closer. With a quiet sigh, he slid his sunglasses off.

Both Lily and Mary sucked in a breath—Mary even took a half-step back. His face was properly bruised, a wicked slash of purple and green blooming under his eyes, his nose still swollen around the thin plastic splint. The stitches on the side of his head were mostly hidden by his hair, but not enough to miss how battered he looked up close.

His lip cracked slightly when he smiled, not much, though, considering Remus had already gone at his mouth earlier.

"I look quite pretty," he said, the exaggerated accent softening his voice a touch, but even the clear nod to a classic film didn't manage to get a smile from either of his friends. And Lily loved Keira Knightley.

"You look like you've been run over," Mary muttered, brown eyes flicking over his face, visibly agitated. "Did… did he actually have rocks in his gloves?"

"Pretty big ones," Sirius replied, glancing down at the abandoned cigarette on the pavement before looking back up at them. "Right, so, I need to crash at yours, yeah? Can I do that?"

Sirius knew what time Mary finished class, and he'd texted her then. She'd either be heading home or off to the station for her internship. Either way, she'd see him, and since she was already with Lily, chances were they were both heading back to Stratford.

Lily didn't even blink. "'Course you can."

"Yeah, we'll sort the futon," Mary added, already rummaging through her bag for her phone. "I'll text James."

"I'll swing by the flat, grab a bag, and catch you lot later," Sirius said.

"Don't you want us to come with?" Mary asked quickly. "You don't have to go alone, and what if Dolohov decides to jump you again?"

"He won't catch me off guard twice," Sirius said calmly.

"Please don't kill anyone," Lily muttered.

Sirius smiled, stepped forward into the rain, and kissed them each on the cheek. "Tell Prongs and Marls I'm staying with you. See you later."

Three fucking weeks. 

Three fucking weeks of aching pain, of James looking like a run-over baby deer, and his brother back in that haunted house. 

After three weeks, the swelling went down, the bruises faded, and the pain dulled. But even three whole weeks couldn't fix what Sirius felt, that constant ache, that empty space in his chest. 

Every time he walked into his flat and caught sight of himself in the mirror, face still a mess, then turned to see his brother's room empty, it felt like taking another blow to the face with a fist full of stones. 

Three weeks since Dolohov attacked him and Regulus fucking vanished.

Sirius knew he wasn't going to hear from Regulus, so he didn't even bother checking his phone; no point waiting for a message or a call. He wasn't expecting much. All he had left was the quiet certainty that Regulus would come back. He knew his brother. Really knew him. Whatever Regulus thought, whatever he was doing right now, he would come back. He'd find a way.

Sirius had spent years teasing Regulus for not having a spine, for putting up with all the shit their family threw at him. But when their parents died, Regulus could have gone anywhere. And he chose to be with Sirius. He chose Sirius and James. And Sirius was certain he'd choose them again.

And not even the ghosts of their parents, nor Narcissa, and especially not fucking Bellatrix, would get in the way.

Still, Sirius would be lying if he said every inch of him, every limb, every last bit of him wasn't itching to run to Islington, storm into Grimmauld Place, and drag Regulus out.

He didn't know if Bellatrix was hovering over him, if she was sleeping under the same roof, but her calls had stopped completely, and that could only mean one thing: she was getting exactly what she wanted.

She'd already cut Sirius out. Now she was doing the same to Regulus.

And now that he knew she was none other than Belladonna at the fight club, Sirius wanted Regulus away from her more than ever.

When they were little and Sirius felt like annoying his brother, he'd chase Regulus around the house, sticking to the floors their parents weren't on. He'd tackle him to the ground and sit on top of him until Regulus started shouting, then Sirius would burst out laughing and run off. Depending on the day, he'd let Regulus catch up and do the same, laughing along with his little brother's giggles, pretending to be stuck under him. Sometimes, though, he'd just throw him to the floor again and sit on him all over.

Right now, he wished he could be a stupid little kid again, chasing after his brother, pinning him down, just so he could keep him safe right there, underneath him.

Sirius leaned with his elbows on the ropes of the ring, tempted to hop in and get a bit of training in himself. He settled for watching instead Marlene's muscled arms landing solid punches on the training hand pads Peter was holding. Her arms were flexed just right, her stance sharp, every blow strong and precise.

She'd already taken down Bagman in brutal fashion, and Rosier had already knocked out Alecto Carrow. The two would face off in The Duelling, and the winner would go on to the Battle of Hogwarts against James, who was obviously going to beat Mulciber. The semi-finals were the stage Marlene had lost at the last two times—once against James when Sirius had taken the championship, and once against Sirius when James had won last year. Around this time, she always started to get jittery, slipping up on moves she knew like the back of her hand.

As she tried to close the distance for a hook, she took a crooked step, her hips out of alignment for a second.

"Watch your steps, McKinnon," Sirius said.

"It's James' turn," Marlene muttered, chucking her gloves to the floor and hopping out of the ring. 

"Don't be such a baby," Sirius called after her, but she ignored him completely.

The boxing gym they liked to go to had exposed brick walls and visible piping, all tucked beneath a vaulted brick ceiling. Punching bags lined the back wall, and there was a full-sized ring centre stage, which was their favourite, surrounded by spin bikes and other bits of kit.

Peter pulled a face and slipped the training pads off his hands, coming to stand next to him. "I bloody hate when it's my turn for this." 

"Oh, I bet it's so painful," Sirius said flatly. 

Peter glanced up at Sirius' bruised face. "Yeah, well, mate, she once elbowed me in the face and then asked if I was 'feeling the energy.'"

Sirius barked a laugh, turning his head away, still laughing at Peter's comment, only to spot Marlene already back in the ring, with James trailing in behind her, stomping like he'd just been chewed out. Sirius could tell instantly when James was bottling things up, and the way he started throwing cross punches at the mitts made his frustration plain as day.

"Blimey," Marlene gasped, staggering back from the force of James' high kick. "You seriously need to get laid."

"Oh, shut it," James grumbled.

"I mean it," Marlene went on. "All this pent-up frustration over Black isn't doing you any favours."

This was probably one of those moments when Sirius should've kept his mouth shut. He didn't.

"She's right," Sirius chimed in. 

James stopped and turned towards him, sweat dripping, eyes sharp behind his glasses. He yanked off his shirt and wiped his face with it before finally snapping. "So I should just cheat on your brother, then?"

And Sirius could have, once, just once, chosen not to provoke. But of course, he didn't. Again. "What brother?"

"The brother who left you," James shot back, voice lower now. "Left us."

Sirius said nothing, eyes locked on James'. Marlene looked between them, then at Peter, who was now standing just outside the ring, pretending not to have heard any of it. "Well," she muttered, pained, "that's that."

James wanted to fix it. Sirius knew him too well not to notice, he could see the words brewing in James' throat, ready to be said. He braced for it, already preparing to push back.

But James looked at him, really looked, and his face changed. Without a word, he ripped off his gloves with his teeth and flung them to the floor.

"Prongs—" Peter started, panicked.

The silence James left behind was deafening. Marlene and Peter looked at Sirius, waiting for something, but Sirius didn't want to give it to them. He didn't want to give it to them, or to James, the fucking satisfaction.

"Alright, could you at least try not to piss him off?" Marlene asked, eyeing Sirius' face. "Everything's already shit. You don't need to make it worse."

"You started it," Sirius shot back.

"Yeah, Marls, maybe it wasn't the best idea to bring up Regulus," Peter added quietly, lowering his gaze when Sirius looked at him.

"It slipped out," Marlene defended herself, arms crossing. "You lot know I talk too much when I'm nervous—"

"You do more than you should, too," Sirius pointed out. Marlene shut her mouth and frowned. "Yeah, I'd say your decision-making's been quite shit lately."

"I'm going to go talk to James," Peter said quickly, looking like he wanted to flee.

"I will," Sirius said.

Sirius found him just outside the boxing gym, leaning against the soot-streaked brick wall beneath one of the old railway arches. The early afternoon light spilt down unevenly through the gaps above, catching on the faded paint and dusty windows of the gym's red-framed entrance.

James stood with his eyes closed, steadying his breathing, one hand over his chest as if to comfort himself. Sirius had seen him do that plenty of times over more than ten years of friendship — James' anxiety was something he usually managed on his own, something he could handle. So most times, Sirius didn't even bat an eye. But this time, knowing he was part of what had made his friend feel like that… something shifted inside him. He closed his own eyes and sighed, stepping quietly towards James.

"Thinking about Regulus?" he asked, leaning in next to him. 

"When am I not?" James replied, opening his eyes.

True. The most uncomfortable and awkward truth. He had to get used to James' thing for Regulus, but sometimes it was still the strangest bloody thing in the world. 

He noticed how James' breathing eased up the moment he came close, and that made him feel just a little bit better than he had over the past three fucking weeks. Because even though everything was a mess, he could still make his best mate feel a bit less shit, even if James hadn't done the same for him when it came to the vote.

"I'm not ready to talk about it," Sirius admitted. About Regulus, about the voting, about the fighting. He just didn't want to talk, and admitting that to James would make him feel a bit better. 

And it was clear that James wanted to fix it, just as Sirius had said. James wanted to fix them—Regulus, the club, everything he touched, he wanted to sort it all out. And Sirius throwing that in his face wasn't something his friend would tolerate in silence for long.

"I figured as much," James said, a hint of resignation in his voice. 

"Lils said I've got the emotional range of a teaspoon," Sirius said, pulling a cigarette from the pack and lighting it. He made sure to blow the smoke away from James' face.

Sirius felt that wave of calm hit him quickly. There was something almost therapeutic about slowly inhaling and exhaling the smoke. It gave a sense of pause. Simple as that.

He watched James. It was temporary, just like the good feeling of a cigarette, but he knew that, for that moment, he'd sorted out some of what needed sorting with James.

"Are we good?"

James turned to look at him, and just like in all those years, a look was all it took for them to understand each other. He smiled, "Always."

He took a few more drags, blowing the smoke upwards. The day had been better than usual, a bit warmer, with the clouds parting just enough to let some sunlight through. And they'd soon have to head back in to finish training, but they could stay out there a little longer.

Just by looking at James' face, Sirius knew he genuinely wanted to know what he'd been up to, especially since they hadn't talked much since Regulus disappeared. And even though he still wanted to keep everything bottled up, if James asked, he'd give him whatever pieces he could manage.

Sirius had always given himself completely to James. In the very beginning, he tried to offer only pieces of himself, never too much, never enough for James to realise just how far from whole Sirius truly was. But James kept pushing, kept reaching, until he had all of him. And up until then, there had never been another person in the world who knew him as completely as James. Not his parents, not even Regulus. No one had ever possessed the whole of him, except James. 

"And what's going on in your life? Apart from all the rubbish we've gotten ourselves into," James asked. 

Sirius took a drag. "I met someone." 

James blinked. "Oh? Really?" 

"Yeah," Sirius muttered, already bracing. 

"That's brilliant!" James beamed. "What does he do?" 

"He's a professor—" Sirius paused, and James' smile faltered, just slightly. "At Hogwarts."

 James blinked again. Paused. Slowly closed his eyes like he was buffering. Then raised a hand to his temple, absolutely done. 

"Is it—" Professor Lupin. "Is it?"  

"Yes." 

The silence was a bit awkward. Cars passed by on the street, horns blaring, and inside the boxing gym, the sound of Marlene finishing off Peter and his training hand pads echoed faintly. And then the pair exchanged a glance once more before bursting into laughter.

"Do you reckon Regulus will be pissed about this?" Sirius asked. 

James chuckled. "That's putting it mildly."

"Yeah, he's going to kill me," Sirius muttered, flicking ash from his cigarette onto the pavement.

"Oh my God," James said slowly, still in disbelief. "I mean, you clearly had the hots for Lupin, but I thought he sort of hated you."

"He probably does."

"So, you're into the tweed-jacket-wearing professor? You? The elbow patches, mate."

"It's hot, innit?"

"He's haunted."

Sirius smiled dreamily. "Exactly."

"And that's supposed to be attractive?"

"You're dating Regulus. He's giving dead child in a funeral portrait."

"Fake dating."

"Yeah, good luck with that."

James ignored that completely. "And for your information, Regulus looks very nourished."

Sirius shook his head. "He looks like he died in 1870 and no one noticed."

The day had dragged on, but the weather stayed better than the last few days. Sirius had skipped all his classes that day except for one, Bins' lecture, because you never know when some mysterious guest speaker might turn up. It would have brightened up his day, at least a bit, though there'd been no surprise professor in hot tweeds this time. Not a single elbow patch in sight.

"Where did you stay last night?" Marlene asked, frowning. "I thought you were crashing at Mary and Lily's again."

"Crashed at Fabian's," Sirius replied. Marlene kept staring at him, and he shrugged. "What?"

"You and Fabian, then?" she asked.

"It's whatever," Sirius muttered with another shrug.

It wasn't like he wanted to stay in that place with Regulus' empty room staring back at him. And worse—being around James Potter and those big, brown, miserable eyes of his.

So yes, he was spending his nights warm somewhere else. And Marlene and Peter had been spending more time at their flat than their own anyway, so Sirius wasn't leaving James on his own. He still spent every other moment with him, pretending everything was perfectly fine.

Marlene snorted. "Are you actually sleeping or just chain-smoking on his bed?" 

"Bit of both," Sirius said, glancing up at her, bored. "But at least I'm not cuddling Wormtail for comfort, so I'd say I'm winning."

Peter and Marlene lived in his uncle's flat up in North London, round Palmers Green way. They'd been there since the start of uni, unlike Lily and Mary, who only moved out of halls last year and got a place together.

Marlene scowled and gave him a sharp flick to the forehead. "You're such a dickhead." 

"Oh, for God's sake. I'm injured, yeah?" 

"Stop being a knob."

"Oh, right, because you were being so lovely when you voted me out."

"This again?" Marlene looked at him, shocked, and let out an irritated huff. She crossed her arms, and her lips curved downward in a soft, trembling frown like an upside-down smile.

"Marls," he sighed, but her lips only seemed to curve down more. "Don't."

"You're making me upset!"

"I am upset," Sirius replied, leaning back against the stone wall. "My life is a bloody nightmare. I got beaten up by a complete loser, I can't fight anymore, and my brother is probably being held captive… willingly, but still."

"I know things have been hard, but—"

"Yeah, things have been hard. And—"he looked at her, "you helped make it harder."

That shut Marlene up. Her brown eyes widened, and then she lowered her head, letting her fringe fall forward to hide them. She crossed her arms and lifted her chin again, staring straight ahead as students walked around the university. They were standing by the front gates on Gower Street, which was always busy with Hogwarts students coming in and out of classes.

"I get it," Marlene murmured. "You're pissed off at me. At Peter. Even James."

"I'm fine," Sirius replied, though he knew something inside him still felt bitter.

"I guess not, James, then," she said, a little bitterly. "You can never be mad at him."

Sirius knew it was true. "You and I are different from James and me, or Peter and me, and you—"

"I know. It's been weeks and… I can feel Regulus' absence," she said. "And yours."

He knew she was talking about him missing the fights, and he felt it too. Like he missed the adrenaline in his bones, like it used to rush through his veins.

"Well, darling, should've thought about that before—"

"But it's like you said…there's no fixing this. We can't fix this," she said, turning to him. She touched his arm, her fingers resting on the leather of his jacket. "And maybe you would recover, maybe you could fight again… but what if that didn't fix anything? I've no idea how you didn't end up with a concussion, but what if you had ?"

Sirius hated hearing reason, especially when it came from his friends. He wanted to throw it all away and tell them to piss off. Why couldn't he fight? He made his own decisions. He just wanted to irrationally get back in and sod the consequences.  If he wanted to get back in the ring, why did his friends have to care so bloody much? 

"I'm sorry. And I hate that you're upset," she added quietly, "but I really think we made the right call… James wouldn't have stepped in like that if he wasn't trying to protect you, Sirius."

He'd been pretending for weeks that everything was fine, bottling something up inside him. Going to the gym, helping James and Marlene train, and not being able to do the same himself. Going to lectures and not seeing Lupin in the corridors. Then, going home and not seeing Regulus scowling at him for chewing with his mouth open. And he wanted to keep pretending, it really was what he wanted, to just shove it all down this time, but looking at Marlene, he couldn't.

"I want to do something, anything," Sirius said. "Like crash James' fight with Mulciber and take the fucker on myself. I want to beat the shit out of Rosier every time I see him just because I can. I want to nick all the money Peter hoards from the fights and set it on fire. I want something to snap."

"That's crazy."

"It's how I've felt every single day since I fell down on that mat, seeing nothing but blood," he muttered.

Marlene glanced around nervously. They weren't exactly in the most discreet spot to be having this conversation, but Sirius didn't give a toss.

"Everyone's fucking furious. I was, too. I wanted to go back and finish Dolohov off. And I would've, Sirius. I would've killed him." She gripped his arm tightly, making him turn to face her. They leaned the side of their head against the stone wall, their foreheads nearly touching. "I would burn this whole place down for you. I've got you, alright? That's why I voted for… you to stay out," she added in a whisper. "Because I care more about you, and James, and the girls, and Peter, than any of that. I would've sucker punched everyone to get my way back to you."

They went quiet for a moment. Around them, life carried on as usual, clusters of students passing by, professors hurrying past with brisk steps. The street was lined on either side with rows of Georgian terraced buildings, all red-brick or brownstone, with tall sash windows and the odd bit of black iron railing. There were trees along the pavement here and there, giving the place a bit of green amidst the stone and brick.

Despite the constant shuffle of students coming and going, it wasn't a chaotic street. Sirius quite liked it here. He liked skiving off lectures and hanging around the front of Hogwarts or loitering out here to chat with Hagrid, the groundskeeper.

"That's crazy," Sirius joked. Marlene gave a wide grin and laughed too. He loved her smile; her top teeth were perfect, and on the bottom, there was just one, right next to her canine, that was slightly crooked. Barely noticeable, really, but Sirius had clocked it once when she pointed it out after getting punched in the side of the mouth and asked if it had knocked it straight. "You'd have to get through the coppers first," he added.

Marlene shifted, resting her back against the wall, and glanced sideways at him before looking away. Sirius narrowed his eyes when she looked back again, only to drop her gaze once more. He caught her arm and gave it a gentle tug. She sighed.

"And Dorcas Meadowes."

"The fuck?"

"I tried to go back for you lot and she… physically held me back," she said quietly.

"Okay, hold on. What the fuck?"

"When the police showed up and you went down with Dolohov, I ran into Meadowes," she explained. "She looked terrified and was on her own, so I grabbed her hand and we legged it together."

"And?"

"And then, once I knew she was safe, I tried to go back. And she… she wouldn't let me."

"You're stronger than her," Sirius pointed out.

A flush crept over Marlene's cheeks. "She held me back," she muttered.

"Girl," Sirius said, deadpan, "I swear to God, I'm not forgiving you if you end up shagging a Slytherin."

"Oh, right! Because you didn't fuck Barty bloody Crouch Jr.?" Marlene shot back.

"We don't talk about that," Sirius said quickly. "Everyone has the occasional lapse in judgment. I happened to have mine after cracking my skull on a rock."

"You slept with him, what—last year, wasn't it?"

"Maybe, but I didn't run back to him holding hands in the middle of a crisis," Sirius added with a pointed look. "There's a difference."

"What? Nah—hold on, I didn't run back! We had one bad date!"

"And then you hated her guts. Didn't you call her a stuck-up cow last week?"

"She looks at me like I'm something she scraped off her shoe."

"Yeah, and you still helped her leg it from the police."

Marlene blinked. "Wait. Are you seriously flipping this back on me right now?"

"I'm just saying, if there's something going on with Meadowes,  maybe be real about it. With yourself, yeah?" He shrugged, all casual like it wasn't a deliberate sidestep.

Marlene frowned. "There it is," she said slowly. "That's what your move."

"What?"

"You deflect. You say some mad shit to get me riled, and suddenly we're not talking about you anymore."

"Yeah, and you're out here talking about Meadowes like you didn't use to slag her off every chance you got."

"Oi! You said you were going to stop doing this—don't twist things round on me—"

"I'm not twisting anything. You're imagining it."

Marlene smacked his arm. "Can we go back to two minutes ago when you were the one pissed off at me?"

That's why he loved Marlene. He'd been irritated and upset, furious with the world. even with her, but she got him. In just a few minutes, she made everything feel a bit less rubbish, and he couldn't even remember why he'd been so wound up in the first place.

Sirius chuckled, just about to fire something else back, when a message lit up on his phone.

"What is it?" Marlene asked, clocking the change in his face.

"Just the twentieth person today saying they saw Regulus on the grounds," he muttered. "This time, apparently Rita Skeeter told Amelia Bones, who told Fabian, that Regulus is definitely back at uni."

"And he hasn't talked to you?"

Sirius had stopped occasionally ringing Regulus for some time now. And every time he was with James, he could feel the weight of his best friend's stare, practically begging him to do something about it. Truth be told, if Sirius so much as suggested breaking into Grimmauld Place and dragging Regulus out like he wanted to, James would be up for it in a heartbeat.

But no. Sirius wasn't going to do that. Just like he'd had to work up the nerve, face the ghosts of that house and walk away, Regulus would have to do the same. And Sirius trusted his little brother to pull it off.

"Regulus was never much of a talker, was he?" Sirius remarked. "When he was a kid, just before I left for boarding school, he went an entire summer without saying a single word," he said. "He was so furious that I was leaving him on his own for a year, he just stopped talking. Wouldn't speak to anyone, well, maybe Kreacher, but I swear I spent that whole summer without hearing my brother's voice. So, yeah. He didn't talk to me."

"Fuck that," Marlene muttered, clearly wound up. She pulled a hair tie from her wrist, yanked her hair up into a high ponytail, and grabbed her training bag off the floor. They'd already had practice, and Sirius had just given her a lift back to uni on his bike—James and Peter had gone off ages ago. Marlene still had one more class between her free periods, which she'd used to get a session in at the boxing gym. "He's going to have to say something now, one way or another, isn't he? Who does he think he is?"

"He thinks he knows everything about everything—that's the problem—"

"Then he needs to be less of a bitch, like you," she snapped.

"Oi! I thought we were meant to be pissed off with him."

"Fuck that," she repeated, sharper this time. "You're one bad night away from completely losing it, your face is still fucked, and he's swanning about campus like nothing happened? Nah. Not having it."

"Marlene," Sirius called, but she was already storming off towards the uni. "Marlene, don't be mental. Leave him. Regulus is like a baby hedgehog, he might stab you for getting too close."

"Fuck small mammals!" she shouted back. "I'm not scared of spiky little bastards with trust issues!"

"Yeah, good luck getting close without him curling into a ball and emotionally maiming you," Sirius muttered, though he was fairly sure she hadn't heard, and he didn't make the slightest move to go after her. Honestly, if she wanted to square up to a spiky little feral woodland creature in designer loafers, that was her business.

Sirius watched her storm off, then pulled his phone from his pocket. After a few seconds, the line connected.

"You and Mary still on campus? Right… keep an eye out for a meteor heading straight from Mars."

"Remind me why I stayed friends with you lot after you all became murderous boxers lunatics?" Lily asked from the other end. "Mary, we need to find Marlene," she said to the girl clearly next to her. Sirius heard a low murmur through the speaker.

"You'd better be quick, she's tearing through the main entrance at lightspeed," Sirius said, watching people practically leap out of Marlene's way in the distance. "Impact imminent."

"Oh my word, I can see her—Marlene—!"

Sirius hoped Marlene wouldn't actually run Regulus over, a bit of shouting, sure, he probably deserved a proper fright. Maybe even a dramatic shove for good measure. He just really hoped she wouldn't go full murder mode. That would be very annoying, especially if he had to explain it to someone. Like the police. Or James.

"Marlene, you can't be attacking people in broad daylight in the middle of campus," James was saying on the phone, while Sirius sat on the sofa, giving Peter a proper glare to scare him off. "That's like common sense, girl."

His so-called friend avoided his gaze, almost like a rat caught out, and the fact that he was munching on a packet of Walkers crisps with his front teeth didn't help one bit. James pulled the phone from his ear, reached into the bag, and nicked a crisp for himself.

"I didn't attack anyone, I just sent a message," Marlene's voice crackled through before James pressed the phone back to his ear with a sigh.

Two days in which Marlene had successfully avoided James around campus and dodged his phone calls. But nothing lasts forever, and she was going to see him tonight anyway, so she simply decided to answer the call before James ended up running all the way to North London to find her.

"We're already walking a very fine line as it is," James was saying on the phone, while Sirius tilted his head and watched Peter from the sofa. "No. No, it's not just because you tried to go for Regulus… if it were… yeah, if it were someone else, I'd still be telling you to rein it in. Chill, yeah?"

"Enjoying your crisps?" Sirius asked.

Peter finally glanced over. "Yeah, they're decent," he said, then looked away again, practically sinking into the armchair.

"Yeah, looks like it."

"Want some?" Peter gave him a sheepish grin, holding the bag out with a half-hearted stretch of his arm.

Sirius ignored him. "How was the last committee meeting, then? Did it cross your mind to chuck yourself out a window when the betting numbers tanked without me coming back to the ring?"

"I— I'm going to bounce back… but, you know, it's not the same without you, Pads."

"Don't kiss my arse when you've already got your head up James'."

Peter grinned. "Yeah, well—James offers snacks. Hero speeches and Mini Cheddars."

Sirius wanted to laugh, but seeing Peter still wouldn't meet his eye, he held it back. What a spineless little rat. "You know you can look at me. I already know what you're up to."

Peter nearly snapped his own neck, whipping round to look at him. "You do?" Then he let out a casual little laugh. "Course you don't—"

"Course I do. I saw you vote me out."

"Oh," Peter said, looking mildly surprised. "Right, yeah."

Sirius narrowed his eyes, watching him. He'd only meant to rattle Peter a bit, try and move on like a supposedly mature adult from the fact his mates had voted him out… but Peter looked properly guilty.

"Relax, Wormy," Sirius said, "I'm not gonna go Mad Dog on you. That's reserved for the people I proper hate."

Peter gave a small smile. "Good thing I literally fell into yours and James' compartment when we first met."

Sirius laughed this time, remembering little short Peter back then, stumbling through the open door. He and James had teased him a bit, had a laugh, and then pulled him in to sit with them on the way to boarding school. They hadn't really been apart since. Sirius imagined them older, living close to each other, because he honestly couldn't picture them in separate cities.

"We kind of saved you from a boring-arse life," Sirius said.

"The thrilling life of an underground fight club," Peter muttered, getting up and leaving the bag of crisps in Sirius' lap. "Honestly, can't thank you enough," he added dryly.

"I know," Sirius said.

Peter rolled his eyes with a smile, glancing over at James, who was still on the phone with Marlene. "Look, I've got to do something, but I'll be back in time for the fight and crashing here tonight, yeah? Let James know."

"Sure," Sirius said, grabbing his phone to check a message. He looked up when he realised Peter still hadn't moved.

"I'm going to see Bertha," Peter said.

"Alright. Sure," Sirius replied. 

Peter looked at him for a second longer. "So yeah, I'll be back. Just heading to see Bertha, and I'll be back later."

"Have a safe trip, then," Sirius said, deadpan.

Peter gave him a grin and clapped James on the shoulder as he headed out the door. The flat felt empty straight away, and like it or not, having Peter or Marlene around always took the edge off the place, softened the echo a bit. The flat was just big enough for him and James to disappear to opposite corners if they wanted, but not big enough to forget that Regulus had been there.

Sirius felt the weight of being alone in the same room as James almost immediately, something he'd never felt before. But that was the Regulus Black effect. He'd shifted something in Sirius' whole dynamic with James.

And there was a limit to how many pieces of him he could give to James before it was enough for James to start pushing for more.

"I'm not a bitch…'Tá bom, Marlene, chega, eu não quero mais saber. Se comporta, porra," James was saying down the phone, even though Marlene probably wasn't understanding a word of it. " Tá, tchau."

"Is it true she punched Regulus in the face?" Sirius asked.

"She tried," James said, "but I trained the little fucker well. He ducked."

"Don't sound so proud," Sirius said. "Shouldn't you be focusing on your fight with Mulciber today?"

James threw himself onto the sofa beside Sirius and grabbed the packet of crisps. "What's there to worry about with Mulciber?" he laughed. "It's already a miracle he even managed to sneak his way into the top eight. I could take him out in my sleep."

Sirius wanted to say he'd thought the same about Dolohov, and of course, if Dolohov hadn't cheated, Sirius would've destroyed him, but he did cheat, and he did basically knock Sirius out.

"And Marlene?" Sirius asked. "Think she'll beat Rosier?"

"She's got everything it takes," James said confidently. "The only thing that gets in Marlene's way is her head. She gets too in it, doesn't let things go. But she is better than he is," he added. "Honestly, her technique's better than all of ours."

Sometimes, when James started analysing stats, techniques, and fighters like that, Sirius wondered if he'd want to go pro after uni—or end up a coach. He actually liked the sport as a sport, unlike Sirius, who liked it as a way to let off steam. A way to just be the best.

"I hope she wins. It'd be good to see her smash her face in the final," Sirius said.

James let out a laugh, the kind that slipped out before he could help it, but it died quickly on his lips. "If Regulus is back at uni, you think he's coming to the fight tonight?"

"Why? Want to put on a good show for him?" Sirius asked.

James deliberately rolled his eyes and stood up. "I have a late class today, but before I go, I'm just popping to Whole Foods, need anything to eat later tonight?" he asked.

"No, I think I'm staying over at Marlene's after the fight," Sirius said to James as his mate grabbed the big tote bag from the kitchen open to the living room.

"Why is she not coming here?" James frowned. "Peter's already coming round."

"We're doing a Final Destination marathon all night—"

"You know, mãe doesn't want that sort of film in the flat," James cut in, aghast. "She said no horror, no hauntings, and absolutely no teenagers being flattened by rogue scaffolding."

"Thought you wanted me to stay and have a cuddle with you and Wormtail?" Sirius teased.

"When you brought that bloody ouija board into the flat, you nearly gave her a heart attack! She had to go round chucking holy water all over the place!" James said. "Get out with your cursed little soul!"

Sirius grinned. "Well, I've just had a premonition that Whole Foods is goi—"

"Don't you dare."

"You know, maybe just steer clear of the oat milk aisle—"

"Oh, shut the fuck up, Padfoot!"

James was fuming. It was the first thing Sirius noticed.

If something had gone down between James nipping to Whole Foods and whatever late class he'd had, Sirius had no clue.

There wasn't a smile on James' face, not even a hint of humour. His expression was so closed off that Sirius couldn't even imagine what part of himself he could give to James to make him even a little bit happier.

The crowd erupted into cheers as James bounded round the ring, throwing mock punches into the air. "Prongs! Prongs! Prongs!" they chanted with full-on fervour, their voices echoing through the basement. 

Marlene, next to him, was screaming her head off, hooting and bouncing around with Mary and Lily. Beside him, Kingsley clapped excitedly and glanced sideways, frowning slightly as if to say, What's up with you? But Sirius' eyes were locked on James.

"Making his debut in The Knockout, we've got him—Mulciber!" Peter shouted through the loudspeaker, wrapping up his announcement as the Slytherins began stamping their feet. Sirius' gaze flicked to Rosier across the mat, standing with his sister and Dorcas, but notably without Crouch.

As soon as the fight kicked off, James was taunting Mulciber and not like he usually did with banter and half a grin, but sharp and focused. No. He was nasty and furious, winding Mulciber up until the bloke landed a swift sidekick that caught James right in the ribs with the sharp edge of his foot.

He thought about James saying that the only thing that could get in Marlene's way was her own head… so what would be the one thing that could get in James' way?

And as if it were nothing, as if it were perfectly normal, Sirius' eyes snapped to Regulus, standing right across from him.

Of course, it was him. It had always been him.

He could tell the exact moment James noticed Regulus. His whole posture changed, looser, more aggressive, like something had come undone. The girls beside him seemed to catch on just as quickly. Marlene let out a loud gasp, followed by a curse under her breath.

"Sirius," he heard Mary's voice somewhere behind him, but he didn't take his eyes off his brother. He felt Kingsley's hand rest gently on his arm, light and careful, but nothing drew his focus away.

The basement was a complete mess. It was the kind of scene Sirius usually loved, but tonight he couldn't care less. Sticky floors, the smell of sweat and beer, fluorescent lights flickering overhead, the crowd roaring. It was loud, hot, and overwhelming. But all Sirius could hear was the buzz in his ears, and all he could see was Regulus.

His brother, standing just across the mat. His polished loafers in contrast to Sirius' worn boots, his crisp button-up shirt against Sirius' faded band tee. They had the same bone structure and the same fucking eyes, so alike and yet completely different. Regulus' face was spotless while Sirius' was marked with fading bruises.

As the lights flickered, for a moment it was as if Sirius was seeing Regulus at fourteen, standing in the doorway of his bedroom, watching Sirius run away from home. Quiet, hollow, just letting it happen. The lights flashed again, and his grown-up brother was looking straight at him. 

There was something about Regulus in that moment, just within reach, the way he had been all those years ago. And what if Sirius had pulled him along back then, made him come too? What if he did it now, didn't let him slip out of reach again? It felt like making the same mistake twice, staring right at his brother, except he had never really thought it was a mistake to begin with. Regulus hadn't wanted to go with him. But had Sirius even asked? He couldn't remember. He honestly didn't know. And now? Did Regulus want to come with him now? If he did, wouldn't he already be standing beside him, not across from him? Always across from him. Always on the other side.

Everything that happened after felt like a blur.

James walking straight up to Regulus in the crowd.

James knocking Mulciber out cold.

Everyone around him was shouting and jumping, losing it completely, while he just stood there. Still.

His eyes met Regulus'. And then the crowd swallowed him.

When he lost sight of his brother, he tried to tell himself it was fine. That he didn't need to do anything drastic. That he didn't need to go hunting him down. But what if he did? What if there was the slightest chance that things weren't fine, and Regulus needed saving?

Sirius had sworn never to set foot in Grimmauld Place again. He had promised himself that the next time he needed to, he would burn down the entire house and everything in it. But if it were for Regulus, he was actually considering doing just that.

So, he slipped away from the arms of his friends, away from the crowd.

The heavy air of the basement gave way to a chillier breeze as he pushed through the side door and climbed the stairs two at a time. His brother wasn't going to stick around for long. The thud of music and shouting faded behind him, replaced by the mostly silent night. Outside, on the grass, groups of students were already sneaking off as they never stayed in the same spot too long after a fight. They couldn't risk it. It was always like this after a fight: one party ended, and half a dozen others sprang up.

It didn't take long to spot Regulus in the distance, walking away with Crouch. Shouting across campus while they were all there illegally wasn't exactly the brightest idea, but the urge to just call out for his brother was almost unbearable.

Sirius stepped forward, heart hammering harder now, but before he could make the decision to call out, someone else stepped into view from behind one of the pillars of the building. She blocked his path, calm and certain, like she'd been waiting there all along.

Fucking Bellatrix.

"Off somewhere, cousin?" she asked, eyes glinting beneath the flickering campus lights.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Sirius didn't waste any time.

"Visiting campus. Feeling a touch nostalgic, you know how it is."

"What's wrong with you? Ever asked yourself that? I mean, clearly there's something off in our family," he said, tapping his own temple, "but you, Bella, you really take the cake, because you are completely fucking insane."

"Oh heavens, and I haven't even said good evening yet, and you're already rambling. Has anyone ever told you you're terribly dramatic, Sirius?" Bellatrix said.

"Every day I wake up hoping you're dead."

"Aww, you're so sweet."

He didn't reply. Instead, he glanced over her shoulder, but Regulus had already disappeared between the trees. Sirius will have to hunt him down in Grimmauld Place.

Bellatrix's smirk widened. "Looking for someone?"

Sirius stepped in closer. "Don't play this game with me, Belladonna."

That made her flinch. Just slightly. Her expression faltered for the briefest second, the nickname catching her off guard like a slap. Then she gave a maniacal grin, tilting her head ever so slightly, her black curls loose around her face.

Her voice was sharper now, though still a whisper. "Who told you that name, you little shit?"

Sirius held her gaze. "Aren't you going to say hello to your dear cousin?"

Her jaw clenched. "You've been talking to someone who was from the club before. Who?"

"I've no idea what you're on about."

He didn't move. 

And neither did she.

"You're looking rather handsome," she said, twirling a lock of his hair between her fingers, his hair so like her own. "Always thought you looked better with a bit of a beating."

"You could've killed me," Sirius snapped.

"I've no idea what you're on about," she said, mocking him, throwing his own words back at him again. Sirius wanted to kill her and then throw himself in front of a moving car. Because how could this despicable person he hated so viscerally… still make him feel something so bloody familiar? Could someone he despised really be so much like him?

"I feel sorry for you, Bella… having it all and still never being enough. Mummy always favoured Cissy, isn't that right? And your daddy always liked Andy so much more, and then there's… you… just as much a nobody in that house as I once was." He was the same height, but in that moment, he seemed to be towering over her. "So you keep trying to prove yourself again and again, but nothing's ever enough for that family, is it?"

His words were as if spoken to a mirror, as though he were talking to himself. But in front of him stood his cousin, Bellatrix, her eyes wide open and glassy, staring back at him. There was such an unspoken understanding between them, the older siblings, where expectations were always placed, only to end up never being enough.

Bellatrix ignored him, and that look he'd seen in her vanished as she smiled, and he could have sworn he saw a single tear slipping down her cheek.

"When Regulus left the house at this hour… I knew there was only one place he could be," she said, as though sharing a secret. "Always the same, predictable, boring Regulus. Tell me, why is it that after all those months with you, he's still such a little bitch?"

Sirius smiled with his lips pressed together and clicked his tongue. "Say one more thing about my brother. I'm begging for a reason to burn down Grimmauld Place. Sadly, arson isn't among my many talents…yet. So shut the fuck up."

Bellatrix laughed as if he'd made a joke. She even placed a hand on his arm and rested her head against his shoulder. "Oh, Sirius. Don't make me laugh." 

"You're here following Regulus. Got it. Just added 'stalking, raving lunatic' to the list of your usual bullshit. But how did you find the exact location?" Sirius asked.

"I thought you told me to shut up, cousin," she said, lifting her head. She rested her chin on his shoulder and kept on smiling.

"You are a bitch," he said.

Her eyes went wide in mock surprise. Her lips puckered slightly, tilted to the side. "Whoops," she laughed.

"Is that why you're here? To keep Regulus chained to you?" he pressed.

Bellatrix finally pulled away from him, and it felt like a weight had been lifted. She tilted her head from side to side with exaggerated patience. "Had to be sure he wouldn't back out."

"Back out of what?"

"Little brother didn't tell you?" she pouted. "He's signing over the inheritance, the whole lot, to me and Cissy. You see, Regulus is rather like fragile cargo to me. I simply need to ensure the delivery man doesn't damage the goods while they're in my care." She fixed her gaze on Sirius. "After that, you can go back to fucking him up all you like."

For the first time, Sirius had no response. Or perhaps he simply didn't want to offer one. A feeling spread through him, something like understanding, or acceptance,  whatever it was, he knew he wouldn't chase after Regulus again. That earlier sense of faith in his brother stirred within him once more, and he stared Bellatrix down.

"If fucking him up means not being like that family, those parasites and lifeless cunts, then yeah, I can't wait to fuck him up some more," he said, a slow smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Better than rotting in that mausoleum you call a family."

"You think you're so different, do you?" she said, stepping closer again. "Out here acting as if you're free. You're not one of us, Sirius, but you'll always be ours. We'll always be inside you, living beneath this skin you feign it's your own. So righteous, so intent on pretending not to be like us. But deep down… you're just like every single person you hate so fucking much."

He didn't flinch. "I'm nothing like you."

Sirius felt numb. Just going with the motions, really, jumping from watching one fight to the next, one party to another, watching his friends live while he felt like he was merely existing.

You're not one of us, Sirius, but you'll always be ours.

The words haunted him, never quite leaving the back of his mind. It was exhausting. He felt so numb that Marlene losing to Evan barely registered. He had watched his friend hit the ground, Rosier celebrating, and he'd merely made a comment to James, as though it weren't happening in real time. People spoke to him and he nodded, laughed, played the part, but none of it seemed to stick. Most of the time, nothing felt quite real.  What weighed on him was Bellatrix, and Regulus, and Grimmauld Place, and his parents. 

You're not one of us, Sirius, but you'll always be ours.

Even if Regulus left Grimmauld Place, Grimmauld Place would never leave him.

Even if Regulus left the Black family, the Black family would never leave him.

It was drenched into them. It was in their very being, in their blood. They could leave that house, they could find a new family, but that place would never truly let them go. Their parents were dead, and still they haunted them. Fuck them.

"What's up with you?"

Sirius stopped fiddling with the cigarette between his fingers and tucked it behind his ear, his hair tied up messily. 

He looked up at James, and his best mate was already shirtless and wearing contact lenses, getting ready for the big fight. Last year, it had been him and James who made it to the Battle of Hogwarts, and Sirius had lost, but since it was James, he hadn't really been able to hold a grudge. This time, though, with James facing Evan fucking Rosier, he felt like he might just crack.

"Just wish it was me up there getting beaten by you," Sirius said.

James grinned. "I actually thought it was going to be you and Marls this year," he admitted, echoing what Sirius had already been thinking.

"Yeah, well, I suppose it's the Black family curse," he muttered. "Big disappointment on my part… guess they were right, eh?"

"Since when do you care about what they think?" Marlene called from across the room. She was on her phone while Mary and Lily sat beside her, counting out the money that Mary was planning to bet on James— though now, all three of them were looking at him.

​​Twenty minutes remained until the big fight between James and Rosier, and they were hidden away in a room in the basement. It wasn't a large space, but it fit everyone comfortably enough. The room lay hidden beneath the old university, tucked behind a heavy oak door. Its thick walls were made of cold, grey stone, damp in places and patched with moss. A single light hung from the ceiling in the centre of the room, flickering occasionally.

In one corner sat an old, battered sofa where the girls had settled in. It didn't match the rest of the room at all, clearly dragged down there by someone in the club long ago and left behind ever since. Along the back wall stood a row of dusty cupboards filled with forgotten equipment— broken projectors, outdated books, old club banners —the kind of things no one had needed or touched in years.

Sirius was sunk into a faded yellow armchair, also mismatched and just as out of place, worn in all the corners and sagging slightly. Across from James stood a tall, narrow mirror with a pointed top and a heavy gilt frame, propped against the wall. The glass was streaked and cloudy, as if it hadn't been cleaned in years.

"It was a joke, Marls, obviously," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Obviously," she repeated, unimpressed.

"So," Mary said, glancing between Marlene and Sirius, "I've got gossip."

"What is it?" Lily asked, curious.

"You already know, babes," Mary grinned. "But I heard from Boardman, who heard Trelawney chatting to Peter, and he's pretty sure she was tryna ask him out!"

"What? She knows he's got a girlfriend," Marlene said, properly shocked. "I mean, I get it, Bertha's bloody awful, but still."

"Wait—hold on—you didn't tell me it was Boardman who told you," Lily said, narrowing her eyes. "Are you actually seeing Boardman again?"

The girls launched into a debate about whether Boardman was actually worth the fuss, and if Trelawney was genuinely into Peter or if she just wanted him to try on her moon tea "to open his heart chakra or whatever."

"Alright, what's actually up with you?" James asked, taking advantage of the girls being distracted.

Sirius hadn't told him he'd seen Bellatrix. He'd mentioned she'd threatened him for a while before Regulus ran off from Grimmauld Place, but not that he'd seen her again after that. He knew James was already pissed he'd kept that to himself — this would only make it worse.

"On the day you went up against Mulciber… and Regulus showed up to watch, I ran into Bella outside. She was there too. Or skulking around, whatever."

"You're taking the piss. That fucking bitch," James muttered, keeping his voice low so the girls wouldn't catch on.

"I think she's still up to something," Sirius said. He thought about telling James that Regulus was planning to sign over the whole family fortune to their cousins, but figured that bit of news wasn't his to share.

"Bellatrix seriously needs to—"

"Drop dead?"

"Please don't kill her," James said at once. "It'd be a nightmare having to visit you in prison. Don't think I'm cut out for it. I'd cry. In front of the guards. You'd never recover."

"If I actually ended up in prison, I'd at least be the first Black to do so."

"Really?" James blinked. "That's actually surprising. Are you sure? Not even that weird aunt you had, the one with all the dogs she had stuffed?"

"Aunt Lucretia? She was very fond of her taxidermy babies, thank you very much. But no convictions. Ever. We always managed to slip away before it even got to trial," Sirius said with a bitter little smile. "Might be the one thing that'd set me apart from them, yeah?"

James didn't laugh. He just gave him a strange look."What… what?" he said quietly. "Padfoot, what's going on? Did Bellatrix say something?"

"No. Nothing happened," he said, a bit too quickly. Because apparently, the only thing he knew how to do when cornered was lash out. "So why don't you finish getting ready. Maybe you can put on a little show for my stupid little brother again?"

"He's not stupid—" 

"Just because you're in love with Regulus doesn't mean it makes him any less of an idiot. Actually, it makes both of you idiots."

"I really love him, Pads," James murmured. He didn't escalate things. He knew with Sirius things could spiral far too quickly, and he'd had a taste of that lately. But Sirius was Sirius.

"I know," Sirius replied. "Do you really think that whole fake dating thing actually fooled me? Not even for a second. I don't care, really…be happy, or whatever. And please, for the love of God, beat the shit out of Rosier."

James looked at Sirius for a moment, then turned his gaze to the girls on the sofa, chatting about Peter. "Actually, I reckon it's the Paddy Pimblett haircut, the girls seem proper into it these days."

"The Paddy Pimblett haircut!" Lily shouted, laughing. "Oh, I love Peter."

"Do you lot know," Marlene said, grinning, "he told the barber he wanted it like 'that Paddy bloke,' and the poor sod thought he meant Pimblett, but he was on about Paddy Bever from Corrie?" Marlene cackled and carried on telling the story as James started wrapping his hands with white bandages for the fight.

"I would shag Paddy Pimblett, I mean that haircut actually does it for me," Lily declared.

"Please do not shag Peter—" Mary said, but before Lily could respond, the door to the room burst open.

"You've got some bloody nerve!" Marlene was the first to spot him.

Regulus.

Mary and Lily were beside her in the same second, but Sirius and James didn't move. James didn't even look at Regulus.

Regulus really was leaning into the dramatics of it all. His brother stood in the doorway, breathless, wide-eyed, almost shaking. Sirius took a proper look, scanning for anything out of the ordinary, worry bubbling up inside him. But Regulus seemed perfectly fine, which was at once the best news in the world and also felt like a knife in the gut. Shouldn't Regulus look miserable after spending a month back in hell? Or was he so much like them that it didn't even matter anymore?

"Everybody get the fuck out," Regulus said.

Sirius nearly laughed. Of course, he'd come in like that. First thing he'd heard from him in a month, and it was that.

"You heard him. Everyone out," Sirius said, pushing himself up.

As he passed his brother at the door and their eyes met, he didn't see Bellatrix there, hiding behind those pale eyes. He didn't even see himself. He just saw Regulus. His little brother.

The door shut behind them, and Sirius immediately pulled the cigarette from behind his ear and lit it.

The fight began so abruptly, with no time to blink. James wasn't pausing to catch his breath or think. He attacked with relentless determination, striking however he could, and Rosier struggled to keep up. James charged forward aggressively, each move overwhelming Rosier and himself. Evan managed to block and dodge, staying on his feet against the onslaught.

Mary had always been more sensitive to fights and was hiding behind Lily, burying her face in Lily's hair whenever a particularly harsh blow landed. Lily looked nervous about how aggressive the fight had become, but she still clapped and shouted along.

Sirius wanted to jump into the ring and take the fight, the beating, everything, for James.

Because James was distracted. 

Sensing this, Rosier tripped him, making James stumble backwards before lunging forward, mounting him and landing a rapid series of punches to his face.

James had his forearms up, blocking most of the punches aimed at his face, but he was still pinned beneath Rosier's body. James twisted his torso, trying to throw him off balance, but Rosier countered by driving his knee into James' side.

The noise James made was loud and painful because no one had ever hit him that hard before, maybe Sirius during their first final fight, but this visceral pain made his body twitch, so it must have struck his rib.

On the other side of the ring, Regulus stood with the other Slytherins. He looked like he wanted to throw himself between James and Rosier. He was nervous, fidgeting, watching James as if he might die right there.

And then James swung his leg around, hooking it around Rosier's ankle and yanking hard, trying to topple him. Rosier staggered, his balance faltering, and James wasted no time pushing up with his other leg, twisting his body and forcing the other one off him.

James scrambled to his feet, breathing heavily, his eyes wandering over Evan, unfocused. The crowd erupted into chaos as if everyone jumped all at once, shouting and clapping with cheers ringing out.

A unique thrill surged through Sirius' body as he clapped and yelled, with Marlene nearly slamming into him. The Prewett twins hurled beer around in their excitement, and Mary and Lily bounced up and down.

Rosier lunged forward, throwing a wild punch, but James ducked under it, delivering a swift uppercut to his jaw. The crowd erupted again as James followed up with a series of rapid jabs, driving Rosier back. The Slytherin fighter tried to counter with a hook, but James sidestepped, delivering a powerful kick to his midsection, sending him sprawling to the ground.

But then James turned to the crowd, jumping, his eyes fixed on Regulus, motionless amid them all. As James was about to turn back to the fight, Rosier sprang up and delivered a swift, high kick to his face.

The impact was brutal, sending James crashing to the floor with a resounding thud. The noise of his body hitting the ground was drowned out by the roaring crowd, electrified by Rosier's sudden move.

The Slytherin stood tall and dominant, poised to either continue the fight or end it. But before he could move, James slapped the mat twice.

Surrendering.

James rose from the floor, a hand to his ribs, blood running from his face down his neck. He was in pain, and it wouldn't have been easy to keep fighting, but James would never back down. 

Yet, he did. And Sirius didn't understand one bit until his eyes flicked to Regulus and saw his brother standing in the way of James' gaze.

"I'm done," James said. 

It seemed like everyone was waiting for James to laugh it off and then finish Rosier. But instead, his friend stepped down from the mat and, with heavy steps, strutted over to Regulus. 

Sirius breathed out a laugh as Marlene swore, and the Prewetts threw their drinks to the floor. His ears vibrated with the audience's screams as Peter raised Rosier's arm, declaring him the champion of the Battle of Hogwarts.

"Why you laughin', then? You in shock?" Fabian asked.

"Yeah, babes, the Slytherins just won," Mary carried on.

Before Sirius could answer, Gideon came barreling through the crowd, breathless and urgent. "Oi, listen up! Just got a message from upstairs, and the police or campus security, I don't bloody know, but they're comin'. We need to scatter now." His sudden interruption saved Sirius from having to respond, the panic in Gideon's voice cutting through the noise like a knife.

But Sirius was still chuckling when Marlene grabbed his arm and started running before the music in the basement even stopped and the lights came on.

"Everyone bloody scatter, the coppers are 'ere again!" Fabian shouted through the megaphone. "And when I find out who's causing this mess and grassing us up, I'll unleash the Mad Dog on ya!"

Sirius ran off, never letting go of his mates. He led the way with Marlene behind him, and Lily and Mary between them. Peter had already vanished, and Sirius knew James would sort things out.

There were hundreds of people trying to escape, but Sirius knew the university like the back of his hand. He ducked into one of the dimly lit, cramped rooms in the basement and came out through a door leading to a narrow, winding spiral staircase. His hand found Lily's, pulling her along hurriedly, and beyond her footsteps, he probably heard the Prewetts behind them, Frank too. He had nudged Kingsley as he passed, but wasn't sure if he managed to follow; he hoped he did. Sirius kept leading them up the spiral staircase, the stone steps worn and slippery underfoot, emerging into an empty corridor on the opposite side from where everyone else was coming out. 

"We should head out through the car park now, right?" Marlene asked, "And where the bloody hell is Peter?"

"I think I saw him with Jorkins," Alice said, lacing her fingers with Frank's.

"He'll find us," Sirius said confidently, "let's go through the car park. Fletcher can sort the cameras for us. I'll pay him whatever he wants."

"Are we all crashing at yours and James' place then?" Mary asked the group leading the way.

"Actually, I'm crashing at Fabian's," Sirius said.

Fabian glanced at them, a little confused. "Me?"

"Yeah, you don't mind, do you?"

"Nah, I mean, no, of course not. Sure."

"Black!" The shout came from the corridor they'd just left, and Crouch appeared, running alongside the Rosier twins and Dorcas.

Sirius let out a laugh and rolled up his sleeves. "Come any closer and I swear I'll deck a Slytherin, been dying to punch one all day."

"Sirius!" Lily scolded. "Really? By all means, punch someone, that'll really help our case when the coppers arrive."

"I'm only joking," Sirius said smoothly, though his eyes remained fixed on Crouch. "Unless, of course, you'd care to give me a reason."

"Oh, can you both stop bitching about?" Dorcas cut in, exasperated.

"You lot need to get a grip, it's like clockwork with you two," Marlene added, arms crossed.

Sirius gave her a sidelong glance. "Didn't you try to deck a Slytherin just last week? These Slytherins, by the way."

"Yeah, Sirius," Crouch grinned, "you really should try calming down. You look like someone who just found out their mum's been shagging their cousin… oh wait."

"Why don't you go back to your house and fuck your daddy some more?"

Crouch's smile vanished, but Rosier stepped forward and draped an arm over his shoulder. "You lot's weird, foreplay is fun and all, but we actually have something to say to you," he said.

"I've got nothing to say to someone who told my brother we fucked," Sirius said, loud enough to turn heads because why not, everyone already knew.

There was a pause. A very awkward pause.

"Oh my days! You shagged Crouch?" Apparently not everyone, because Alice and Frank looked properly shocked. 

Mary snorted, Evan groaned, and Sirius was fairly sure Marlene had just banged her head against the wall.

"We're trying to move past that," Dorcas muttered.

"Yeah, it's really weird, we'd rather not talk about it," Gideon added.

"Still gives me nightmares," Marlene chimed in.

"Sometimes in my dreams," Pandora said cheerfully, "I can still hear Barty telling Regulus exactly how much he shagged his brother."

"For fuck's sake," Gideon muttered.

"You've just made it ten times weirder," Evan told his sister.

"Can we go?" Lily asked, a bit exasperated. "I'd love to not have a conversation about who's shagged whose brother in the middle of the bloody night while we're illegally doing illegal things on uni grounds with the police circling the perimeter—"

"That's exactly what we want to talk about," Evan cut in quickly. "There's no coppers out there. Just Hagrid, and he's actually asleep on a Rolls-Royce."

"'Scuse me, what now?" Gideon asked, properly baffled. "But someone said the police were spotted in the neighbourhood and—"

"Exactly. I got that text too," Barty said, stepping forward. "Someone sent out a warning about something that's not happening."

Everyone went still. That weird crawling silence when everyone's brain starts to think at the same time.

Sirius stopped in his tracks, eyes darting from face to face. His heart thudded hard in his chest, like it knew something before he did. His mind scrambled, calculating, connecting dots he didn't want to see line up. "Where are James and Regulus?"

Running alongside Barty Crouch Jr. hadn't exactly been part of the plan, but now here they were, both sprinting down the wide university corridors in the same bloody direction. 

They burst out through a side door into the car park just as the main doors swung open across the quad, students spilling out in a chaotic wave. A few cars pulled up with headlights blazing, cutting through the night and drawing every pair of eyes to the centre of the commotion. 

There, right in the middle of it all, stood James—bruised, bloodied, barely on his feet. Beside him, Regulus looked almost terrified. And just beyond them, of all fucking people, stood Bellatrix.

"You are a TRAITOR! You fucking arsehole, you're going to get what you FUCKING DESERVE!" Their cousin was creaming at his brother. Her voice echoed with a chilling intensity, each word dripping with venomous rage. Her posture was tense, every muscle coiled with a manic energy that seemed ready to explode.

"If we win, you and I are done, Bella," was what he managed to hear Regulus say. "This is it."

"This is it, Reggie," she agreed, cocking her head. "Prepare yourselves, everyone,"  she said, opening her arms and spinning around in place, laughing maniacally. "This is the Battle of Hogwarts!" she said, removing her long velvet gloves to reveal her hand wrapped in fighting bandages. "How I missed this."

Bellatrix looked straight at Sirius and gave him a wide, manic grin.

Was that her plan, then? To beat Regulus to a pulp? Had something happened with the inheritance, and this was her twisted way of settling it? Or had she always wanted to ambush them like this? Did she want James? Did she want to destroy Sirius once and for all?

All of it, maybe? All at once?

Bellatrix wanted a fight. And, God, Sirius really wanted to give her one.

James gritted his teeth and walked past Regulus, hunched over slightly from the sharp pain in his ribs and limping badly. He'd taken a proper beating, but there he stood, right in front of Regulus, ready to face Bellatrix for him.

"Let's get this over with, vadia do caralho," he said firmly.

Bellatrix tilted her head and licked her lips. "Oh? Are you going to fight me, Potter?"

"No," Regulus said, his chin lifted high. His gaze flicked to his brother's friends, standing right beside Sirius. "Hold him."

Crouch and Rosier moved in without hesitation, catching James off guard as they grabbed him in a firm grip. If James had been at full strength, maybe things would've gone differently. But he wasn't. And they managed to hold him back.

There weren't nearly as many people there as during James' fight with Evan, but enough to form a ring around them. The cars illuminated the centre of the car park like a makeshift spotlight, casting long shadows and lighting up the eager, drunken faces in the crowd. No one stepped in. No one stopped it. They just watched.

Bellatrix laughed loudly, her mouth wide open, eyes gleaming with wild amusement.

"Wait—que—" James shouted. "REGULUS, NO!" He struggled, but Rosier and Crouch had him tight. Evan locked his arms while Barty braced his torso. He was pinned. Helpless.

James' eyes were wide, and he shook his head, trembling. As he struggled, Regulus began to unbutton his bloodied shirt, pacing deliberately around the circle with his cousin tracking his every move.

"Regulus," Sirius called out from the front of the crowd. Regulus didn't turn his back fully on Bellatrix, but he did glance over. Sirius was deadly serious, his jaw tight. Marlene stood at his side, as if ready to throw herself in front of him if he dared charge into the circle.

"Trust me." Regulus' voice was quiet. 

His little brother, asking him to trust him. His little brother, asking for trust after running away from him, after making the choice, all on his own, to slip out of Sirius' arms and run straight back to Grimmauld Place. The worst possible decision Sirius could imagine. And now he was asking for trust.

He remembered it vividly…Regulus snapping at him on his birthday, telling him not to step in every bloody time. But how could he not? This was Bellatrix. If he let this happen, if he stepped back now, she could beat his brother so badly he wouldn't recover for weeks or ever. It could go horribly wrong. This was a situation where Regulus was truly in danger, and Sirius knew it.

He hated this. Every part of him screamed to shove through the crowd, to knock Bellatrix flat, to grab his brother by the collar and drag him out of this madness.

But Regulus had asked.

Sirius pressed his lips together, then, after a moment, let out a slow, deliberately cocky smirk. "Don't fucking embarrass me."

And then he stepped back.

"Nã—não," James' voice cracked. "Sirius! Que porra você 'ta fazendo? What the bloody hell are you doing? Sirius! Sirius—" he was at a loss, looking desperately at his friends. "Marlene, I'm telling you to do something— FABIAN, DO SOMETHING!"

When Fabian threatened to walk towards them, Sirius raised his arm, halting him, with Marlene standing firm at his side, just like Frank and Gideon. Sirius shook his head, making it clear to all of them that there would be no interference. 

James screamed again, urging someone to take action, not to let Regulus go through with it, but everyone stayed in place. Perhaps it was because they saw that both Sirius was ready to block anyone James sent to help.

"Are you going to fight me, Reggie?" Bellatrix taunted, her laughter echoing coldly. "Do you even know how to throw a punch, or are you too much of a coward to even try? Letting your brother take the lead while you hide in the shadows, just like you did as children?" 

Regulus ripped the shirt he had taken off into pieces and wrapped a thin band around each hand. Standing tall, he raised both arms into fists in front of his face. Their cousin began circling him like a snake, poised to strike, studying his stance, looking for any sign of vulnerability. She was clearly enjoying herself, but there was something about her posture, a touch of caution.

"And the fight never ends at Hogwarts Fight Club!" Sirius' head snapped towards the sound of Peter's voice blaring through a megaphone from atop a car, his excitement practically vibrating off him. "And the rules now are… there are no rules!" he announced, eyes gleaming wickedly as he scanned the crowd. 

"What the fuck?" Sirius muttered. Marlene turned to him, looking just as bewildered. "Where the hell has he been?" 

Suddenly, a voice from the crowd cut through the noise, dragging Sirius' attention back, "We want the Battle of the Brothers!"

Peter chuckled, shaking his head. "As much as we'd all love to see that, tonight it's a different kind of family showdown. Place your bets, place your bets!" he continued, his Somerset accent coming through with a hint of rustic charm. "Tonight, it's the Battle of Family Ties! Who's bloody ready?"

Screams drowned out as Bellatrix charged at his brother like a maniac. She closed the distance with lightning speed, bobbing and weaving, before unleashing a fierce jab that caught Regulus square on the jaw.

Sirius looked away quickly, the image already burned into his mind, his little brother's face twisted in pain. When he looked back, Bellatrix was following up with a series of hooks and uppercuts, each blow landing hard. The hooks slammed into Regulus' ribs, knocking the air out of him and leaving him gasping.

Regulus tried to block and counter, but Bellatrix was relentless. She moved with controlled aggression, her movements sharp and calculated. When he finally dodged a punch, it seemed like she planned it.

As he turned to her, she landed a high kick square to his face, sending him crashing to the ground. Regulus' head hit the floor with a sickening thud, and James screamed just as Bellatrix burst into loud, manic laughter.

"Don't cry, baby cousin," she taunted. "Don't run to your mummy. Well, how's mum and dad, Reggie?"

Like a little child looking for their parents, Regulus' eyes locked on Sirius. And his heart stopped for a moment because that almost innocent look… almost broke him. With all the pain in his chest, Sirius stayed rooted to the spot, just nodding silently, trusting his brother.

Regulus rose slowly, blood trickling from his mouth and nose, and he chuckled softly. "I buried them six feet under, Bella," he said. "Just like I'll do to you."

Sirius let out a disbelieving laugh as Regulus charged at Bellatrix. He launched into a punch, getting her right in the cheek. Bellatrix began to bleed at once and snarled furiously, but Regulus did not stop. He continued charging at her, and their cousin, taken aback, stumbled backwards, her face twisting in both surprise and fury.

"Your mother hit better than you," Bellatrix sneered. 

"And who taught you how to fight, cousin?" he asked, smiling through bloodied lips. "Your husband or the professor you used fuck at uni?" 

"Go fuck yourself!" Bellatrix spat. "You're nothing but a traitor to our blood!" 

"Riddle, isn't it?" he continued, smirking. "I suppose he got sacked—"

Oh, years ago, the drama of it all in the Black family household, when Bellatrix supposedly slept with her professor—the irony of it all.

Bellatrix screamed and charged. Regulus ducked under her wild swing, grabbed her legs, and lifted her off the ground. The crowd gasped as he slammed her down hard, the impact echoing through the car park. 

She hissed in pain, hand slipping from his neck as she scrambled to her feet. Her eyes blazed, lips twisted in a furious smile. Regulus stood ready, chest heaving. The crowd watched, half shouting, half silent.

"Not too bad for a traitor, eh?" Regulus chuckled. He bowed slightly, fists raised in front of his face, beckoning Bellatrix forward with a wave. 

Bellatrix launched herself at him skillfully, knocking him to the ground. Regulus scrambled to defend himself, planting his feet firmly on her chest and stomach, but she relentlessly landed blows around his head.

"Don't let her hold you down, Regulus!" Marlene shouted. Others started yelling too, urging him on—Gryffindors, Slytherins, everyone.

With strength, Regulus used his legs to lift her off him to the hard floor, then twisted to pin her arm between his thighs while executing a swift arm lock. Their cousin let out a scream but got free, bringing them face to face once more.

Bellatrix's movements were fast and chaotic as she wrestled with him until they slammed against the hard metal of the car hood. She locked him in place, and Sirius could tell the moment his brother panicked. 

She kept pursuing him, trapping him in a suffocating headlock under her armpit, her grip tightening with each passing second.

"Come on, Regulus!" Sirius shouted, his voice raw. He knew his brother could pass out any second now. "Keep moving!"

Regulus twisted his arm around her head and used her weight against her, and he flipped Bellatrix over his shoulder, giving himself a break from her grip. 

The crowd roared and jumped. Everyone was completely hooked on the fight; the adrenaline wasn't just coursing through the two fighters in the middle, but through the whole lot, James included, who was being held back by more and more people as he struggled to throw himself into the fray.

Bellatriz swung a punch at him, but he dodged. Evading again as she tried once more, he slipped under her arm and delivered a hard kick to her ribs. As she turned, he struck with his right fist, then followed up with a left, watching blood spray.

Then he did something Sirius never imagined he'd see him do, nor thought he even knew how. In a move James loved pulling off, Regulus launched himself, pivoting on the ball of his supporting foot. Extending his leg outward with precision, toes pointed, he delivered the full force of the kick. The arc of his leg sliced through the air, and his foot connected with Bellatrix's face.

Sirius felt Bellatrix collapse in slow motion, as if the world itself had paused on that moment — their cousin lying on the ground while Regulus stood tall.

Was it finally over?

Watching Narcissa and her security load Bellatrix into the car, unconscious, was easily in the top five best moments of Sirius' life. And hearing Regulus retell the whole thing, that Bellatrix had completely lost it because her plan had gone pear-shaped. Even though Regulus had signed away the inheritance, they still needed Sirius' signature since their parents never disinherited him.

It was almost like Bellatrix had said—no matter how much he thought he'd escaped, that family still held a piece of him, and he held a piece of them.

"Sirius, thank god you're crashing at Fabian's because James has officially banned everyone from coming near the flat tonight," Marlene laughed, swirling the last of her drink in the can. "They need some privacy."

"That's disgusting. Please kill yourself for saying that to me," Sirius shot back, rolling his eyes, but unable to stop a small grin.

Marlene just laughed again, taking another long sip, while James drifted closer to Sirius, his gaze sharp and curious.

"Why does everyone think you're crashing at Fabian's?" James asked, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow.

"Because I crash there sometimes," Sirius shrugged.

"Since when?"

"I don't know, Prongs, I mean, the night of your fight with Mulciber."

"No, you told me you were staying with Marlene." James gave Sirius a knowing look, then chuckled softly. "Really? You idiot. If you wanted to make up an excuse, you could've come up with something better than Fabian."

"Why's that?" Sirius asked.

"He's not even gay! Gideon's the gay one, Fabian's as straight as a ruler."

"Really?"

"Yes. You mixed the two up?"

"They're twins. If one's gay, the other must be too."

James threw his head back, laughing outright. "I can't argue with that logic. So, where are you actually crashing then?"

It was almost morning, and Sirius was slightly drunk by the time he finally arrived. He could feel a weight lifting off his shoulders, just like every night he'd managed to escape here over the past month. The familiar creak of the floorboards as the door opened, the quiet hum of the city outside, it all wrapped around him like a warm, if slightly worn, blanket.

"Was it awful, then?" Remus asked through the half-open door.

"Quite," Sirius said with a smile. Remus kept watching him, and Sirius grinned wider. "What? Regretting letting me crash here for the last four weeks?"

Remus smiled back and opened the door fully, letting Sirius in as he brushed past him.

Chapter Text

There was something so erotic about seeing someone completely undone for you. The way their eyes went all clouded, their lips slightly parted, their breath getting quicker. It was almost like casting a spell, like the person was bewitched by him.

Sirius had bewitched Remus Lupin.

Now that he had him right there, he could feel it. The desperation, the ache, the want Remus had for him. There was so much want in the way Remus touched him. Strong hands, long fingers, gripped his waist, physically unable to let him go. It was almost a feeling of protection when those broad arms wrapped around him, holding him in every possible space.

Sirius was tall, strong, and well-defined, but Remus was taller — he stretched to probably over 6'2. His arms, though slimmer and less muscular, were longer, and his hands were large and steady, like they were made to hold the whole world or just made to hold him.

"We can't do this here," Remus' voice of reason was nearly slipping him away as Sirius pushed him down into the big leather chair in the office.

Slowly, he lowered himself and knelt between those legs. He looked up at Remus through his lashes. "Don't you want to fuck me, professor?" 

Remus' hand came up, cupping his face and moved to the back of his head, grabbing a handful of his hair that made Sirius gasp as his head was pulled back, a smile never leaving his face.

"Don't be playin' with me now, Sirius," he nearly begged.

"But I want to play with you," he replied. With his head still tipped back, his hands were on Remus' thighs, the fabric warm and textured beneath his fingertips. "Come on, it's after hours, no one's around. It's just us."

"Sirius—"

"I love when it's just us," Sirius murmured, his hands stroking along his thighs, getting closer and closer to the middle of Remus' legs. "Don't you?"

Remus' jaw tensed, sharp and tight. "Mm." Quiet, rough, barely a sound.

Licking his lips, Sirius tilted his head slightly, just only as much as Remus' firm grip in his hair would allow. "Just us," he whispered, voice all soft, "like last month, when I spent nearly every day of April in your bed. I fucking loved that."

Remus kept staring at him, chin lifted, his heavy breathing betraying the real emotion behind that serious face. His amber eyes locked with Sirius' before dropping to his mouth just as Sirius licked his bottom lip. He looked like he was practically salivating for him.

Fingers slowly let go of Sirius' hair, each hand now gripping the armrest of the chair tightly, knuckles turning white as Sirius began to undo his belt. 

"I'm obsessed with your cock," he said, eyes fixed on that gorgeous, massive cock. He wanted to suck the life out of Remus through it, every single drop, but just as much, he wanted to watch . Wanted to see Remus' long fingers, big hands pleasuring himself in front of him while he sat back and did nothing but stare.

"Thought you were obsessed with me," Remus panted as Sirius worked him over.

"Well, your cock is a very big part of you."

Sirius wanted to sit on his heels and watch Remus stroking himself. slowly at first, that big hand, the veins running along the back of it not quite enough to cover the whole thick length, those fingers gripping the hot skin, fingertips flushing a faint red.. Then faster, until his whole body was moving with the rhythm of his arm. And Sirius wanted to suffer watching it. Wanted Remus to tell him he wasn't allowed to touch himself until Remus had come. Wanted to squirm. Wanted to get to the edge without even laying a hand on himself, just from watching Remus.

He nearly begged for it, for Remus to touch himself right there in his office, in the Department of English at the university. He wanted to ask, and he felt like Remus would do it, would give him exactly what he was asking for, but right then, he needed to taste him. He needed him now.

But before Sirius could wrap his lips around his cock, Remus stood up, lifting Sirius with him, until he had him up on his desk. Books thudded to the floor, papers scattered, a mug tipped over and rolled off the edge with a clatter, spilling cold tea onto the carpet.

"Shit," Remus muttered, glancing down at the mess. "I— I didn't mean to do that…"

"You can pick it up later," Sirius cut in, breath hitching. "Fuck me. Now."

Remus, clumsily and with that gorgeous cock not just peeking out but practically free from his trousers, tugged Sirius' black jeans down his legs. The denim bunched around his ankles and combat boots. "You're not wearin' any briefs. Christ, Sirius."

Sirius grinned, hooking his legs around Remus to pull him closer. "I know."

The kiss came hard and desperate, Remus' tongue hot in his mouth and then against his skin, leaving a wet trail that made him shiver as Remus devoured his neck. The kisses and licks kept moving lower until Remus was on the inside of his thighs, leaving bruises and bites. 

Somewhere in the chaos, Sirius heard him awkwardly fumbling with the big desk drawer. There was a clatter, the sound of something falling behind the desk, and a muffled "fuck's sake" from Remus. He cracked his eyes open and saw Remus, a hand pulling out his briefcase, the same hand digging into it until he found the lube.

Remus climbed back up, towering over him. He pulled his light bordeaux knitted sweater vest over his head, leaving only the white button-up shirt and black tie, now slightly skewed against his chest. He looked like a cliché professor straight out of a novel. His sleeves were rolled just a bit, and a glimpse of ink-stained fingers only added to the picture: the kind of man who corrected essays with a red pen and forgot to eat lunch. He slowly began loosening the tie around his neck until it hung loose. He undid the top few buttons of his shirt and then pulled the black tie off entirely.

"You're such a cliché," Sirius said. "It's hot."

"Hot?" Remus let out a small laugh. "I've just gone and dropped a whole mug of coffee tryin' to fuck you."

"I also think it's really hot the way you're so fucking weird," Sirius shrugged, spreading his legs a little. "It turns me on."

As Remus knotted that black tie around Sirius' wrists, holding them together, it felt like they were the only two people in the world, like, out of the entire university with over thirty thousand students, only they existed. Just the two of them, alone, with the whole world waiting outside.

"Turn around. Hands on the desk, legs apart," Remus ordered.

Sirius obeyed, of course. There was very little he could say or do while he felt Remus' lubed fingers opening him up.

His breath caught with every slow push of Remus' fingers, stretching him open with a patience that bordered on cruel. He could feel Remus' fingers trembling slightly, as if even after all these weeks, he still couldn't quite believe he was touching Sirius. His legs burned, shaking with the effort of keeping still. He was aching to be filled. To be fucked over that desk so thoroughly that he'd be left in flames with Remus still only half inside him.

Sirius glanced back, hands bound and gripping the edge of the wooden desk, one of Remus' hands spreading him open, the other firm on his waist.

"I sucked a dick thinking about you," he said.

Remus paused for a moment, his cock pressing against Sirius' entrance.

"You're crazy," he moaned — and then thrust all the way into him.

APRIL

When Remus opened the door, the cold London air hit him first. Sharp and damp. He glanced out and spotted Sirius leaning against his motorbike near the kerb, a backpack slung over one shoulder, his helmet tucked under his arm, and a cigarette burning low between his lips.

Remus stepped outside, pulling his jumper tighter around himself as he walked down the steps towards him.

"You came," he said softly, once he was close enough.

"You called," Sirius replied.

The streetlight above them cast a dull orange glow, and Remus could see every bruise on Sirius' face. Those icy eyes reflected nothing back. Remus hated that. Sirius' eyes had always been full of something, but now he couldn't find the emotion that used to dance behind his irises. The eyes were just cold, like frost on glass.

He stopped a step away, hands deep in his pockets. Sirius dropped his cigarette and crushed it under his boot.

"Was it as bad as you thought it'd be?" Remus asked, meaning the message that had made Sirius leave so quickly.

"Worse."

"I know it can be difficult," he said, watching Sirius' expression, trying to read him. "What did they say?"

"Actually, can we not talk about it?" Sirius cut in, tired. "Can we talk about literally anything else? Can we not be Mad Dog and Loony Loopy tonight?"

"Aye. Of course." He let out a breath, the air misting between them. 

"Brilliant."

Remus hesitated for a moment, then smiled and held out a hand. "Hi. I'm Remus."

Sirius paused, his lips twitching into something more real. "I'm Sirius."

"I wanted to say something clever. But mostly I'm just glad you're here."

"You could try anyway," Sirius said, still leaning against his bike.

Remus shrugged lightly. "I was goin' to ask if you come around here often, but it felt a bit redundant after beggin' you to show up."

The smile on Sirius' face widened. "You are really bad at flirting," he said.

He huffed a soft laugh. "Yeah, well. You still came."

"I did," Sirius agreed. He held Remus' gaze for a moment, then glanced down the street. "Thought you'd have rushed me inside by now. Living this close to Hogwarts, someone might see us."

Remus nodded. It was one of the first things he'd thought when he called Sirius—when he couldn't help himself, when the absence of Sirius had become too much, even after just a few hours. Since Sirius had walked out that door, irritation on his face, shoulders tense, lips red from how much they'd kissed, Remus hadn't stopped thinking about him. Not at noon. Or at three in the afternoon. Or at half five. And then six. Not a single time.

"I should. Would be the smart thing to do, wouldn't it?" Remus replied. "But I don't think I've been doing the smartest things lately."

"So you're taking a risk?"

"There's, what, thirty thousand students at the university? I teach maybe a hundred and fifty of them. That's half a per cent. So on a normal walk, especially at off-peak hours like this, the odds of running into someone who actually knows me are low. Not zero, but low. Maybe five per cent if I'm being generous. So aye, I'm takin' a risk."

Sirius tilted his head ever so slightly, his hair shifting with the movement, and his eyes looked straight at Remus through his lashes, sharp and dark.

Remus felt like prey. 

Straightening up, peeling himself away from the bike and stepping closer, Sirius came to stand in front of him. Smaller in height, but somehow towering in the way he held himself: so certain, so deliberate, so taunting.

The moonlight caught his face, mingling with the cold flicker of the fluorescent streetlights overhead. There was a glow over his skin and the bruised purples blooming, all the different colours playing across the pale canvas that was his skin.

Sirius really was like a painting. Looking at him was like staring at a piece of art—the longer you looked beyond the beautiful brushstrokes, the more you noticed the little cracks, the lines in between, revealing just how much more there was to him.

He was beautiful. Delicate in all the right places, sharp and strong in others. That night, he was sorrowful, and he was also the light that illuminated everything around him.

And as Remus watched him, Sirius kissed him. Right there, right after telling him how dangerous it was, how they could get caught. As if he were testing him, he deepened the kiss, holding onto Remus, pulling them impossibly close.

"I want to come inside," Sirius murmured against his lips, "because I think begging you to fuck me over my bike right here on the street might be too much of a risk"

"I'd fuck you in the moonlight, Sirius," Remus murmured back, "if you just asked."

Sirius pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes flicking over Remus' face before a slow smile spread across his reddish lips. Then, without a word, he took Remus' hand and tugged him along, leading him back towards the flat.

They slipped into the building quietly, the hush of the night following them up the stairs and through the door. Inside, Remus let himself be guided through the hallway, past the sitting room and kitchen, until they reached the small patio just beyond.

The air was cooler there, the city quieter, and still Sirius didn't let go.

He didn't take his eyes off Sirius when he heard the thud of Sirius' bike helmet hitting the ground. He didn't hear the cars passing outside. He didn't even hear his own heart beating faster and faster inside him.

All his senses were consumed by Sirius. His sight was fixed on Sirius' bruised, beautiful face before he closed his eyes. His hearing caught the soft breaths Sirius was taking and the rustle of fabric. His scent was filled with the warmth of Sirius' skin, vanilla, plum, and the mingling smell of leather with a faint whisper of tobacco. His taste was the lingering sweetness of Sirius' mouth, vivid and alive on his tongue. His touch was the gentle feel of Sirius' skin, grounding him in a trembling need.

When he came back to himself, desperate with need, breathless, mind clouded, he saw Sirius, shivering slightly in the chill night breeze, standing naked before him, his back close to the terracotta wall draped in vines.

Remus pulled his jumper over his head, and with trembling hands, unbuckled his belt and let his trousers fall to the ground. He stepped out of them, shoes and all, moving closer to Sirius.

"I want you to fuck me so hard it feels like you're hitting me," Sirius pleaded.

His body softened at Sirius' words. So real, so true, nearly vulnerable. But it was like, even when vulnerable, Sirius remained in control, still mastering the moment, almost… manipulating it.

So Remus gripped the back of Sirius' neck, panting into his mouth.

"I don't want to hit you," he murmured between kisses. "I want to fuck you so hard it feels like all that pure want you carry inside… just crumbles away. I want to fuck you so it doesn't feel like pain."

The painful quiet that fell then was strong. The settling tension bubbling inside them, the words heavyening the very air they breathed together. He could almost feel, in that tense silence, Sirius' mind working hard to regain all the control he'd lost in just a second.

Sirius' eyes seemed lost, just for a moment, and then his mouth crashed against Remus', so hard it must have hurt. Remus wanted nothing more than to give in to that desperation, to let himself be swept under by it. But he slowed the kiss, careful not to press against Sirius' bruises and sore spots.

Noticing the change, Sirius let out a pained sound and turned away, positioning himself with his back to Remus. Both hands pressed against the vine-covered wall, and he glanced back over his shoulder.

"Moony," he whispered. "Fucking rail me."

Remus fit himself against Sirius, his heart stopping as he felt the way his cock fit perfectly between Sirius' arse. The alignment was so precise, so maddeningly right, that for a moment he heard nothing at all, not even the soft sound of Sirius tearing open a packet of lube with his teeth, taken from the crumpled jeans on the ground.

He only noticed when Sirius reached back to pass it to him, and even then, his focus was elsewhere, fixed entirely on the way his cock nestled in the crease of Sirius' arse, as if they were made for this exact moment.

"I— I've come to realise that I don't have any prophylactics here." 

Sirius blinked back at him in confusion for a moment and then breathed a laugh. "You can fuck me raw for all I care, just do it now, please."

He was going to kill Remus.

"Yes. I want to, yes. I—" he drew a shaky breath. "I haven't been with anyone in quite some time, and the last time I was tested, I—"

"And I take care of myself," Sirius said, glancing back over his shoulder again. "Always fucking did."

Remus was actually going to die. He was going to die that night, with a beautiful, beautiful man in front of him.

His body trembled with want, the anticipation flooding through him so intensely he feared he wouldn't be able to give Sirius exactly what he needed that he might finish far too soon. That he might just give in to himself.

He kissed the corner of Sirius' mouth, then trailed his lips along his shoulder as his hands took care of everything that needed doing.

Closing his fist around himself, he guided the movement with care, still pressing calm, wet kisses to Sirius' skin as he went.

He listened to the maddening sounds Sirius made with every press, every twist—loud, unfiltered noises that came from somewhere deep inside. Of course, Sirius wouldn't hold back. Why the fuck would he? Of course, he wouldn't be shy, not at his most vulnerable, not anywhere. He said exactly what he felt, exactly what he wanted Remus to do.

Yes. Yes. Harder. Yes, there.

And Remus couldn't take it any longer.

He placed his right hand over Sirius', their fingers brushing among the vines clinging to the wall, and with the other, he gripped Sirius' hip. He eased Sirius into soft, steady gasps as he eased himself into him.

The world stopped.

But Remus didn't.

Sirius watched his brother snogging James and felt like he was going to throw up.

Regulus was wearing a Brazil shirt far too big for him, clearly James', and it was disgusting. Sirius thought he ought to say something.

"You're disgusting," Sirius said something.

His brother snapped his head round immediately, somehow knowing without doubt that the insult was meant for him, despite the fact that they were sitting at a pub table full of people.

"You're disgusting," Regulus shot back.

"If I could sell someone for a million pounds, I'd sell you," Sirius said flatly.

"I'd sell you for a single pound," Regulus returned.

"Seriously? That's not even clever. I expected your exile in Grimmauld Place to turn you into a mean little bastard, not a mean little bore."

Regulus smiled sweetly. "Your best friend doesn't think I'm a bore, do you, James?" he said, wrapping an arm around James' neck and toying with his earlobe.

"You're disgusting," Sirius repeated flatly, earning a few laughs from the table.

"You're disguhhsting," Regulus mimicked, exaggerating Sirius' voice.

"You're disgusting." 

"No, you're disgusting."

They both started parroting each other in increasingly ridiculous tones, barely even saying words by the end, much to the amusement of everyone watching, especially James, who looked like this might be the happiest moment of his life.

"I missed this," James grinned.

"I missed when Mother used to threaten to put you up for adoption," Regulus said to Sirius. 

Sirius threw his head back laughing. "I missed when you said you'd fake your own death, and I genuinely got excited." 

Regulus took a sip of his drink. "I missed when you almost got that concussion. Best holiday I've ever had." 

Sirius didn't blink. "I missed when you fell down the stairs at eight, and I considered not calling for help."

"Well, I missed this, too," James said brightly. He nudged Peter with his shoulder. "Don't they have the best sense of humour?"

Peter turned his head to James with a furrowed brow. "Sure. I guess, if that's what does it for you, mate."

Sirius kept his eyes on his brother, who was already looking back at him. The bruises on Sirius' face were gone, but Regulus' were only just starting to fade. His brother gave him a small, closed-lipped smile, and Sirius gave him one back.

"Finally!" Marlene shouted, spotting Lily weaving her way through the other students scattered around the pub. "We couldn't take another second of James and Regulus' weird foreplay, seriously, I—"

She stopped mid-sentence as Lily reached their booth, holding Dorcas' hand as she had tugged her through the crowd.

"We bumped into each other at the door," Lily said with a smile, pulling Dorcas closer to them. "I told her Regulus would be with us."

Sirius glanced from Marlene to Dorcas, then from Dorcas to Lily, and finally to Mary.

"I don't have a cup for whatever bizarre competition you lot are having," Dorcas said casually. "But I'm happy to be the judge."

"Yeah, brilliant, grab a chair," James said enthusiastically.

They were sitting at a booth in the Three Broomsticks. Regulus was at one end, directly across from Sirius, with James beside him. Then came Peter, Marlene, and Mary, circling back to Sirius. Lily and Dorcas were pulling over chairs to squeeze in at the end.

Wooden booths lined both sides of the pub, the floor creaked under every step, and the lighting was low and golden. The bar stretched across the back, cluttered with mismatched pint glasses and neon drink specials. Off to the side, a small space doubled as a dance floor, the music a mix of old rock and whatever was trending that week. It smelled of beer, fried food, and nights people wouldn't remember properly. The last time they got together there for what they called "The Great British Piss-Take", Marlene had fallen down the stairs, and James had somehow convinced the entire pub to join him in a rousing but utterly off-key rendition of Wonderwall. It was the night they usually all drank the most, even Mary, who usually wasn't much of a drinker.

"So, this time we had to bring the funniest cup we could drink a pint from," James said to Dorcas. "We always vote, but you can't vote for yourself, obviously. And if there's a tie, Regulus was meant to be the tie-breaker, but you can share the honour with him because Mary said—"

"Regulus is obviously going to rig it in your favour," Mary cut in.

"That's true," Regulus shrugged to James. "I'm not particularly fussed about nepotism."

"Sounds brilliant," Dorcas laughed. "I remember when you lot did that one where you had to keep a random accent all night."

"Oh yeah, that was just after we started dating," Lily said. "I think Sirius won by doing James' Brazilian-British accent."

"Still can't believe that beat my brilliant Texan drawl," Peter muttered, still bitter.

"One of the best editions of The Great British Piss-Take," Sirius grinned. "I'm telling you, I want to be the reigning champ. This was a mistake."

"Alright, Gordon Ramsay." Peter rolled his eyes, being the one who'd actually won the most, with Mary close behind.

"Jesus, I'm sorry that was your introduction to my friends," Lily said, flashing Dorcas a smile. 

"That's alright, maybe," Dorcas replied, returning the smile, "might play out a bit differently this time."

Sirius glanced at Regulus, who, like him, was clearly not oblivious to the very random flirting happening between Lily and Dorcas. In fact, probably only Peter and James hadn't clocked it. Mary was watching them over the rim of her drink, and Marlene was very obviously pretending not to notice.

"I'll go first," James said brightly, pulling a bag out from under the table and plonking it on top, nearly knocking over a few of the drinks scattered across the wooden surface. "I'll be drinking from," he announced, lifting his pint and pouring it into a shiny trophy, "my pub quiz trophy." He beamed as if he'd just won it that night.

"Very nice," Sirius nodded, "but I raise you the finest mug money can buy." He pulled a sleek black mug from the pocket of his leather jacket, complete with a dainty little handle shaped like the letter 'C' and 'unt' printed across the body. "Custom-made. Like me."

"Oh my god, you've got the cunt and I've got—" Marlene slammed her mug down with flair. It was a ceramic cup shaped like a naked torso, full breasts and ridiculously large nipples included. "—the tits."

Laughter broke out around the table, and Mary snatched the mug from Marlene, stuck her tongue out, and pointed dramatically at the left nipple. "Get my good side," she said, as Marlene leaned in and claimed the right one. Lily took the photo, still laughing as she tried to keep the camera steady.

"This is the best day of my life," Sirius told Marlene, grinning as they topped off their drinks.

"My go," Peter said brightly, already sporting a red flush from the first round of pints they'd had waiting for Lily. He placed his entry in front of him and grinned even wider.

It was a full-on fishbowl.

"Is that a fishbowl?" Regulus asked, blinking.

Peter nodded proudly and started pouring his lager into it. The rest of the table just stared.

Marlene was the first to break the silence. "Hang on. What did you do with my fish?"

Peter waved a hand dismissively, popping a straw into the bowl and sipping like it was a milkshake. "The fish is fine."

Mary leaned in, squinting at the bowl. "Did you clean it? Did you…kill the fish?"

"The bloody fish that lived in that bowl!" Marlene repeated, eyes wide.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Sirius groaned, turning to Peter. "Please tell me you didn't do anything to Buckbeak. I gave her that goldfish."

"Why the fuck did you name a goldfish Buckbeak?" Regulus asked.

"Because he looked like he'd bite you if you disrespected him," Sirius said, straight-faced.

"The fish," Regulus said flatly, "the tiny orange fish."

"Yes. Buckbeak," Marlene confirmed, then turned to Peter. "What did you do with him, bitch?"

"The fish is fine," Peter repeated, waving her off again like it was nothing.

"Great. Now that we're certain Peter didn't kill the weird-looking fish Marlene has," Mary began, "I brought this," she hummed, placing a plastic cup on the table. It was black with a black-and-white engraved image.

"Is that my mugshot?" Sirius barked a laugh.

The photo showed him grinning like it was a photoshoot and not a police record. His hair was a mess but somehow perfect, falling around his face in waves. One hand was in his hair, head tipped slightly to the side, and his shirt was slightly undone. 

"Why do you look so good?" Mary asked.

"Why do you look so happy?" said Regulus.

"Have you actually been arrested?" said Dorcas. "I thought you'd only been detained."

"He only gets detained when he's bored and wants a free ride in the back of a police car. It's his idea of public transport," joked Lily.

"Well, pretty much every other time, I was only detained."

"Every other time," Regulus repeated, "as if it's normal."

"For Padfoot it is," Peter piped up.

"I got arrested for possession, like, last year?" Sirius added, glancing at James, who nodded.

James grinned. "Yeah, he rang me from the station asking if I could grab some kebab on the way to pick him up." 

"There's a great kebab place near the police station, just off the A40," Sirius said with a shrug. 

"But possession of what?" Dorcas wanted to know.

"A copper thought I was smoking a spliff, but it was just tobacco," Sirius said in his defence. 

"Go on, tell her what you said to him," Peter prompted, pointing at him. 

"I said, 'Sue me if a gentleman can't indulge in a little herb,'" Sirius shrugged. "He didn't like that very much."

"Classic," James laughed, drinking from his trophy. "Go on, Lils, your turn."

"Last but not least," Lily said, setting her cup down on the table with a small smile. It was a white ceramic mug with a raised dog head on the front. Light brown fur, big button eyes, and floppy ears.

Mary beamed. "He looks just like my mum's dog!"

Lily smiled back. "I know. Walked past this antique shop the other day and saw it in the window. Had to get it."

"The moment I saw it in that window I knew it was a find," Dorcas said, accepting a sip from Sirius' cunt mug.

"Oh, were you two… together?" Mary asked.

"Yeah," Lily said casually. "We bumped into each other outside uni. Couple of days ago."

Mary let out a soft laugh. "You two have been 'bumping into each other' quite a bit lately."

Lily just raised her eyebrows, took the mug back, and started pouring her drink. "Suppose we have," she said. 

Dorcas grinned and brushed her shoulder against Lily's. "I like bumping into you." 

"The fuck," Sirius heard Mary mutter under her breath. 

"At least they're not snogging," Sirius murmured to her. "James and Regulus are at it again," he added, and they both glanced over to where James and Regulus were giggling, exchanging kisses. 

"How can you handle that?" Mary muttered. "They've just been talking and I already feel like throwing up." 

"I suppose it's easier when you're not secretly in love with either of them."

"Good, because one of them is your brother, babes."

"Yeah, well," Sirius said, "would've made the Blacks proud if I were into a bit of inbreeding."

"Right, time to vote!" James said brightly, already a few too many pints in to have any sort of filter. He was still all over Regulus, who looked about halfway gone himself—he'd downed that welcome shot in one and didn't seem to be slowing down now.

"My vote goes to… Marlene!" Peter declared. "Cracking tits. Top-notch nipples. Love how they're different colours."

"Thank you, thank you," Marlene replied with a gracious nod.

"I also had mine custom-made, by the way," Sirius added, gesturing to his mug. "It's a reflection of my soul."

"Very deep, Sirius," Lily laughed, tapping her fingers on the table. "Right, I'm voting for Mary."

"Well, I'm voting for…" Mary looked at Lily's mug, then at Lily, her smile a little too sharp. "Sirius' cunt mug," she then turned to Marlene. "But that is a banging pair of tits."

"I know, right?" Marlene grinned. "I'm voting for you, Mary. There's effort, it's iconic."

"I'm going with Sirius," James announced. "May your life be as inappropriate as this mug."

"And I'm voting for James' trophy," Sirius said, very seriously.

"You always vote for James!" Marlene accused. "Are you seriously voting for that? He blatantly just grabbed whatever shite he tripped over in his room."

"Oi! I would've put in more effort, but I'm injured, alright?" James pointed to the bruises from his fight with Rosier, which was basically a week ago."Tell them, amor ." James looked at Regulus beside him, his arm slung lazily around his shoulders. 

Regulus gave him a slow, tipsy smile. "You did just grab the first thing you saw, James. You could've at least had a proper look around."

"And Peter clearly forgot about The Great British Piss-Take and just evicted poor Buckbeak from his home," Sirius muttered.

"Honestly, Pettigrew, I'm impressed," Regulus said, raising an eyebrow. "Didn't think you had it in you to murder. What did you do, flush the fish?"

"I did not kill the fish!" Peter protested, half laughing, definitely tipsy.

"I fucking hope my fish is alive and well," Marlene said, taking a swig of beer from between the tits of her ceramic mug. "And Sirius, there are other options that aren't James or Peter, you know."

"I know," Sirius said with a smile. "Still voting for James."

"Piss off! How has my amazing big-nipple tits mug only got one vote?" Marlene demanded.

"I got no votes, and I brought a fucking fishbowl," Peter said, almost offended. He threw his hand up as a waiter passed and ordered another round for the table.

"Yeah, you're on zero, irmão," James said smugly. "Even my stupid trophy got a vote."

"That's because Sirius has his head shoved halfway up your arse," Peter laughed. 

"It's a tie then," Lily cut in, glancing quickly at Mary. "Cunt mug versus the mugshot cup."

"At the end of the day, Sirius basically just won," Dorcas laughed. "The winner is either him or a cup with his face on it."

"I can't help it if I'm the shit," Sirius grinned.

"You are a shithead, yes," Regulus replied.

"You're a shithead," Sirius mimicked in a whiny voice.

"Alright, before you two start whatever that is again," Mary said, "since it's a tie, Regulus needs to break it."

Regulus looked up with exaggerated thoughtfulness, lips pursed. "Right. I vote for James."

James blinked, then beamed. "Oh," he glanced at Peter, "he voted for me," placing his hand over his heart as if genuinely touched.

"You can't vote for James, you wanker," Marlene groaned. "It's between Sirius and Mary. You can't vote for your boyfriend, that's cheating."

Regulus let out a dramatic sigh and slumped back in the booth. "Well, if I must… then I suppose I vote for my dearest brother."

The table exploded. Protests flew in every direction—Peter smacked the table, Mary gasped like she'd been personally betrayed, and Lily looked ready to confiscate Regulus' pint. Sirius, naturally, was delighted.

"No! That's not allowed," Lily laughed, pointing at Regulus.

"I killed a fish for this!"

"Peter!"

"I'm joking."

"I propose Regulus is officially banned from ever being the tie-breaker for The Great British Piss-Take," Mary announced, raising her mugshot cup like a gavel. "All in favour, shout piss ."

"PISS!" everyone except Sirius and James shouted.

"This is dead boring. You lot are all dead boring," said Sirius.

"No, we're not," Marlene shot back. "You're just a cunt."

Sirius grinned, took a long swig from his mug with the word cunt written across it and said, "Yes. Yes, I am."

"Cas," Lily grinned at Dorcas. "It's in your hands now. Please cast your vote for this very important and serious competition."

Her red hair was tied back in a ponytail, curtain fringe framing her face, and Dorcas reached out to gently fix it before replying.

"Alright," she said, still looking at Lily. "Bit of a shame I can't vote for you."

"If I may," Sirius said loudly, dragging her attention back, "might I remind you my mug is ceramic, and Mary's is just some plastic cup. Like… It's plastic ."

Mary gave him a small, almost grateful smile. "Cheers, Sirius. Always nice to hear from someone whose idea of class is a mug that says cunt."

Dorcas tapped her fingers on the table. "I'll take that into account," she said. "I think both the mug and the cup show effort and creativity, but…" Her gaze drifted across the table until it landed on Marlene. "I reckon I'd have voted for the tits mug."

Marlene glanced at her and quickly looked away. "Yeah, well, this lot is tasteless as fuck, so," she shrugged.

"Yeah," Dorcas said, giving a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

Sirius looked across the table to his brother, and even though Regulus was clearly a bit drunk, he shot Sirius a look that said what the fuck? Not that anyone else at the table seemed to notice — they were all halfway gone already, or maybe Sirius was just that much of a gossip and drama hawk.

"Final verdict then?" James asked brightly.

"I vote for the mugshot cup…plastic and all," Dorcas said, and the whole table cheered like she'd just announced a bank holiday.

"I'm tied with Peter now," Mary said, sounding far too delighted. "Watch it, Pettigrew. I'm fucking coming for you."

"And I'm coming for these drinks, babes," Peter said to her just as the waiter showed up with the round they'd ordered. "And bring a shot for everyone while you're at it!"

It only went downhill from there.

Sirius probably should've clocked they'd gone too far when Marlene accidentally burned herself on the tip of his cigarette — or maybe when Peter started challenging random punters to arm wrestling and was losing every single time.

Or when he was trying to teach Lily how to roll a cigarette, and she accidentally ate the paper. Or when James dared Regulus to nick a mounted antler from the wall — one of those taxidermy-style deer plaques, probably decorative but old enough it might've been real once. And Regulus actually did it. 

"I've just nicked something," Regulus was saying down the phone. 

"I can't believe you went stealing without me," Barty's voice whined on the other end, making Sirius roll his eyes. "I'm stuck at this boring family dinner with Evan, Pandora is off God knows where with Lovegood, and you and Dorcas are you're out nicking shit?" 

"Sucks to suck, Crouch," Sirius yelled over the line. "Bye-bye, bitch!" He hung up before Regulus could say anything. Regulus, who was clearly off his face, didn't even blink. He just slowly reached out, took the cunt mug right from Sirius' hand, and downed the rest in one go. It was straight whiskey, and he didn't even flinch.

"Another round!" Peter shouted from their nearly-abandoned table as most of them had already scattered across the pub. Marlene, who'd been dancing with the Prewett twins, came sprinting over and was the first to take a massive swig.

"This is a round of what?" Lily asked as she arrived, Dorcas right behind her. "And which round even is this?"

"I dunno," Peter shrugged, "and I can't remember."

"That's when it tastes better," Marlene said, slipping out of the booth as Dorcas came closer.

"Where's Mary?" Sirius asked, knocking back his drink in one go. Yep, it was a vodka shot.

"Ah, freak out," James arrived dancing and singing. He spun around Regulus with Kingsley wobbling right behind him, attempting to dance too. He handed a shot to Kingsley and drank the other himself.

"Le freak, c'est chic. Freak out!" Kingsley belted, mostly in tune.

"Prongs, have you seen Mary?" Sirius asked, trying not to laugh as James flailed around them and Regulus watched as if it were the best sight in the world.

"Come on, Alice!" James shouted to the girl in the booth across the room, where she was drinking with Emmeline Vance. "You said you were going to do a shot!"

"I lied!" she yelled back.

Kingsley started bouncing over, dancing until he was practically in Emmeline's lap, giving her a kiss. And just as James looked like he was about to dance his way over there, too, Sirius grabbed his arm.

"Padfoot!" James cried, beaming like he hadn't already seen him five times that night. "What are you up to? You know, apart from the usual shenanigans and endless love-making?"

"Endless love-making?" Regulus said with a look of pure disgust. "What, already found another emotionally unavailable bloke to shag while calling out someone else's name?"

"Yes, I suppose I have. Unless you've got a best mate I can fuck?" Sirius shot back, all teeth.

Regulus gasped, scandalised. "I can't believe you'd joke about that. Like that's not the absolute worst thing you've ever done to me."

"Oh," Sirius said, mockingly, "I guess I've no idea what that feels like, right?" He glanced from Regulus to James.

"Except you do," Peter piped up from their table, just beside them, where he, Dorcas and Lily were sharing one last lonely shot. "Because Regulus shags your best mate every day. Like, James told me… they get freaky."

"Wormtail, please shut the fuck up," Sirius muttered.

"Pads doesn't need to worry about that," James went on, "because he's too busy with his own dick-down—"

"Are you seeing someone?" Lily interrupted, smiling.

"No, I'm not," Sirius said calmly. "Prongs, can I talk to you for a sec?" he added, grabbing James by the arm and pulling him away, leaving Regulus to be dragged off by Dorcas into the booth. 

Sirius kept dragging James along, yanking him through a sea of familiar faces like a mum pulling her toddler out of a soft play. Every few steps, James tried to stop for a chat like he was the queen. They passed Frank, balancing a precarious tray of pints for Alice's table, and James immediately reached for one like it was his birthright. Then they squeezed past Amos Diggory deep in conversation with Ludo Bagman and Ludo's brother, whose name Sirius had definitely completely forgotten.

He pulled James all the way through the pub until they reached the far corner near the narrow staircase that led to the smoking area, a dimly lit little landing that always smelled vaguely of beer and smoke.

"What the fuck?"

"What the fuck what?" 

"You almost told everyone I'm shagging a member of the university faculty," Sirius barked.

"Oh," James' eyes went wide, confusion behind the glasses. "Right. But… can't Regulus know?"

"Of course fucking not," Sirius said, raising his voice over the music. "Regulus can not know I'm shagging his teacher, James."

"But I can't keep secrets from my boyfriend," James said desperately, drunk, slurring slightly. "I can't lie to him."

"You don't need to lie shit. You just don't need to tell him," Sirius said. "Omitting is like… diet lying. Omitting saves lives. Omitting means you don't tell my little brother I'm shagging the professor he trusts and looks up to."

"Well… that's actually good logic," James murmured. "But I still don't want to lie."

"That's what is fucking beautiful about omitting," Sirius grinned. "You're not lying."

"But what if he asks?"

"Regulus isn't going to randomly ask you if I'm shagging his teacher," Sirius said, placing both hands on James' shoulders. "He's not going to suddenly say, 'Is my brother shagging my professor?'"

"But he might," James insisted. "Regulus asks the most random shit sometimes. Yesterday, he asked me once if I'd still love him if he turned into a butterfly cocoon. Not the butterfly. The cocoon."

Sirius paused. 

They stared at each other.

"...Would you?"

James blinked. "Yeah. Of fucking course."

Sirius looked at him for a beat longer, then said softly, "So… cocoon and all… You can't tell anyone."

"So none of our friends can know you're fucking Professor Lu—" Sirius slapped a hand over James' mouth.

"Do not say it," he hissed. "Don't go throwing his actual name around when we're talking about this."

"Ata, então 'ta, Moony the elbow-patch-wearing loony lad," James said, muffled through Sirius' hand. "Your fling or whatever… no one can know about it?"

"Look," Sirius said, giving James' shoulders a gentle squeeze, a strangely sweet smile on his face. "James. Prongs. Prongsie."

"Stop looking at me like that."

"I didn't kick off or make a fuss about the fact you're dating my brother," Sirius said, all faux-casual.

"Yes, but you made a fuss about literally everything else," James pointed out. "I thought you were going to bite my head off when we voted you out."

"But I didn't. And I didn't make a fuss about the fact that you are, in fact, shagging my brother," Sirius went on. "I know you two had sex on the kitchen counter. But did I say anything about it?" he asked. "Did I, James?"

"You did not," James mumbled.

"I did not," Sirius grinned. "So, can we agree you won't make a fuss about my love life?"

"Love life?" James blinked. "Wait…are you, like… actually getting serious with Mr Elbow Patches?"

Before Sirius could answer, there was a loud thud followed by a clatter, and something landed right at their feet from the stairs.

It was Mary.

Flat on her back, empty cup still clutched in one hand like it was the only thing that mattered. She blinked up at them, then let out a tipsy laugh, lips in a pout.

"I can't believe you've wasted all that whisky," Sirius said, staring down at her. 

"Mary!" James said brightly, as if he hadn't seen her for years. He crouched beside her, one hand braced on the step, the other gently tugging the empty cup from her grasp. "How much have you had to drink?" he asked. Mary was known for being the one who drank the least among them, always, but this time she was positively smashed.

"Just enough," she said, a grin spreading across her flushed face.

"She's clearly drinking her problems away," Sirius told James.

"What do you mean?"

"Shut up, Sirius," Mary slurred.

Sirius looked at James. "Lily and Dorcas have been flirting all night long."

"Shut up, Sirius," Mary whined.

James widened his eyes, then looked away before looking back again. "Nossa, sério?"

"I know you're halfway up Regulus' arse, but everyone has noticed except Peter and his fishbowl."

Mary huffed, getting up and leaning against the wall beside James. A burst of smoke drifted down the stairs behind them as someone opened the door to the smoking area, then let it swing shut again.  

"They have, yes," she said. "And they're probably just one shot away from hooking up."

"I did tell you to ask Lily out like… last year," James said to her.

"It was a few months ago."

"Yes, and in that meantime Sirius got beat up, Kingsley is dating Emmeline, Alice and Frank are probably engaged by now…"

"We've found out not both of the Prewett twins are gay," Sirius added.

"Yes, exactly. And didn't Stubby Boardman ask you out?" James asked. "By the time you actually grow a spine and ask Lily out, we'll all be having grandchildren."

"And I'll probably get beat up again," Sirius supplied.

Somewhere deeper in the pub, someone knocked over a stool and was met with rowdy cheers. The music shifted suddenly, cutting from the late 70s into a pounding, bass-heavy beat. 

"They're playing Pitbull," James said excitedly, perking up as he recognised the intro, but he was quickly interrupted by the big whine Mary let out.

"I literally prayed to God for James and Lily to split up—" Mary began.

"What the fuck?" James gasped.

"—and then she was single and probably into me, but I didn't want her. And now she's probably with someone else, and I want her again? What's wrong with me? What's wrong with my brain?"

"You've probably got some childhood trauma you've never dealt with," Sirius said, far too casually. "Our minds are like cages, you know? Every single problem you've ever had is just rattling around up there, quietly ruining all your life choices."

"One time I caught my grandad cheating on my nan."

"Why the fuck did you pray for me to break up with Lily?" James interrupted, still scandalised.

"Seriously," Mary grabbed Sirius by the shoulders, "I was in love with her while she was seeing someone, then while she was single, and I still am. Why can't I just be with her? Why? Is that why I'm still a virgin? Is it because I can't have a proper relationship with people?"

"Everyone is a bit fucked in the head," Sirius shrugged.

"And one time I wore a tampon and I was scared I'd lost my virginity to it!" Mary admitted.

"Too much information," James muttered.

"There's no such thing as too much information," Sirius said. "Please, tell me everything about your hymen."

"It's still there," Mary said.

"And so is Lily," James said.

"Did you just compare Lily to a hymen?"

"The point is," James said, "that you fucked up and—"

"And so did Lily," Sirius cut in. "Why didn't she ask Mary out? Why does Mary have to be the one to make the first move?"

"Maybe she's afraid Mary would turn her down," James said, defending Lily.

"But she could have asked her," Sirius said. "Lily is the one who's been in two relationships in the time they've known each other, so maybe Mary is the one who's scared of how this is going to go down."

"But Mary told me she knew Lily was about to say she liked her, and she interrupted her, so what kind of message does that send Lily?"

"But Mary has never been in a real relationship," Sirius continued, "so Lily should know how to approach her better."

"But Lily can't know," James said. "What if she thought she was just reading too much into it, and that she and Mary are really just good mates? And then she saw Dorcas and, you know, took her chance."

"But Dorcas should've known better than to flirt her arse off with Lily again in front of Marlene, don't you think?"

"Marlene likes Dorcas?" Mary asked, confused as hell and absolutely baffled.

"Alright, don't tell anyone," James said quickly, leaning in a bit. "But Marlene and Dorcas went on a date before Dorcas dated Lily." He turned to Sirius. "But Lily doesn't know that."

Mary didn't say anything. She just blinked. Then took a long sip of her drink. There was nothing in her cup.

"But if Lily likes Mary, why would she flirt with Dorcas in front of her?" Sirius asked.

"Because maybe Mary gave off the vibe that she wasn't interested," James said, still defending his ex. "And maybe now we should be looking at Dorcas, who went out with Marlene in the first year, became actual enemies with her, dated one of her best friends, and is now trying to date said best friend again."

"You know what? Valid," Sirius pointed out. "Because they did run from the police together when I got beaten up."

James gasped. "Single people are messy."

"But still, I'm with my girl Mary," Sirius said, nudging her. "Because everything would've worked out better if Lily had actually used words and asked her out."

"She tried—" James began.

"Oh, shit," Mary murmured.

All three of them went quiet.

From their little corner by the stairs, they had a clear gap in the dancing crowd, and through it they caught a glimpse of their booth. Peter was passed out, still hugging his fishbowl. And right next to him—

Lily and Dorcas.

Kissing.

"Oh my God, I think Peter is drowning in his fishbowl," James said.

The rest of the night was a blur. Dorcas and Lily kept snogging relentlessly and left together. Peter did nearly drowned and had to be bundled into a car with Marlene, who looked very done, and Mary, who very pointedly refused to go back to the flat she shared with Lily.

James and Regulus were all over each other, and Sirius made an unnecessarily big fuss about crashing somewhere else, purely so Regulus wouldn't get suspicious about the fact that Sirius wasn't standing on Chalton Street happily letting himself into a flat he already knew far too well.

In the end, it was pointless anyway, because James ended up throwing up outside the pub before getting into the car with Regulus.

"You're drunk," Remus laughed.

"I brought you something," Sirius murmured, biting his lower lip. His eyes were glassy but gleaming, flushed from drink and maybe also just from looking at Remus. He leaned in and kissed him on the mouth, slow and smiling while clutching his jacket in his arms, stuffed full with all the mugs and cups from The Great British Piss-Take.

"Come on," Remus smiled, guiding him to the tiny kitchen, "let me make you somethin' to eat, sober you up a bit."

Sirius hopped up onto the counter and dropped his jacket, revealing everything he'd smuggled inside. "Mary won, so technically it was all hers, but I nicked it," Sirius said proudly. "I brought all of them for you."

"A fishbowl, a trophy… I'm guessin' that's James," Remus said, lifting items one by one. "A mug with very big nipples… a weird-lookin' dog mug… Have you actually been arrested?" he asked, holding up the mugshot plastic cup.

Sirius just grinned. "Which one do you reckon is mine?"

Remus pretended to think for a moment, then immediately grabbed the cunt mug. "This one."

"Moony, you do know me," Sirius said, tugging him by the front of his pyjama top and kissing him again. The kiss was deeper, messier, and Remus smiled the whole way through, even as he pulled away.

"More kisses after we sober you up, yeah?" Remus promised as Sirius pouted. 

"That's cruel," Sirius said dramatically.

"Aye, well, I'm very very cruel," Remus teased, pulling something from the cupboard and placing it in Sirius' lap, "after you told me about The Great British Piss-Take, I… got my own." It was a bum-shaped mug. "I suppose there's tits, cunts, and bums in this little competition."

Sirius looked at it like it was the best thing he'd seen all week."That is the best mug I have ever seen. I love it. Do you love it?"

"Yeah, but your mug is lush," Remus said, grinning. "I'd have voted for you."

"I would've voted for you," Sirius replied without missing a beat.

"I feel like I've already won," Remus said, carefully stacking all the mugs and cups into the cupboard, even the fishbowl, until only the bum mug and the cunt mug were left on the counter. "You brought me the winner's prize."

"I wish I could've taken you there," Sirius said, catching something flicker across Remus' eyes. "Things got a bit messy." 

"Oh, aye? Go on then," Remus said, starting to make a bacon butty with brown sauce, a jug of orange juice already poured and resting on the counter beside him.

Sirius launched into the story, too many pints, too many shots. Peter nearly drowned, Regulus had his latest brush with the law after nicking a decoration and actually taking it home, there was drama between Marlene and Dorcas, then Dorcas and Lily, and Lily and Mary and on it went. He told the whole thing while sipping orange juice from his now freshly washed cunt mug.

"That's definitely a bit messy, that is," Remus said.

"Makes the fact I'm sleeping with you almost normal, right?" Sirius teased.

"I don't think there is anything normal about us."

"We're a bit odd, aren't we?" Sirius said playfully. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out, reading a message from his brother. "Regulus says I could've come home because James is fast asleep with a bucket by his bed, and he's sat there eating plain rice and drinking James' Lucozade to stop feeling pissed."

"Lovely to know my student is currently off his face," Remus joked. "Tell him to sit up for a bit next to James, not to lie down straight away. This way he won't get dizzy, and he should be tidy."

"I sound far too clever for someone this pissed," Sirius laughed. 

"You are. Even pissed," Remus replied.

Sirius smiled, already leaning in, wanting to kiss Remus again. He wanted to run his hands through Remus' messy, slept-in hair, to take him to bed and ravish him and also, somehow, just sit out in the little patio and share a meal with him.

"Do you like cooking, then?" Sirius asked, watching as Remus unwrapped a pack of bacon and laid it out on the chopping board.

"Aye, I suppose I do," Remus murmured. "Had to learn when I moved here for uni back in the day. Now I quite enjoy it, actually."

Sirius kept watching the way Remus' long fingers moved as he sliced the bacon with the knife. The dim light in the kitchen caught on his fingertips, highlighting the gentle pressure as he pressed the blade down and cut through the meat.

"If you had to eat me, which part would you go for first?" Sirius asked.

Remus didn't pause. "Probably your thighs—you've got rather good ones," he said. "Though maybe your lower back would be nice as well."

Remus smiled at him as he placed the bacon in the pan, cooking it until it was slightly crispy. He set it on a plate while Sirius watched him.

"Probably nothing tastes better than eating something at four in the morning after drinking my brain out," Sirius said.

"Your lower back probably tastes nicer," Remus joked, picking up one of the first bacon pieces he'd put on the plate, now cool enough to hold with his hand. "Here, cariad. Eat," he said, bringing the slice of bacon to Sirius' mouth.

"Do you remember the first time you called me that?" Sirius asked, pulling Remus in with his legs, trapping him there. "I wanted to kiss you so badly, and I couldn't. I had to pretend I was feeling completely normal about it when, in fact, I wasn't feeling normal about it at all," he whispered, like it was a secret.

Remus smiled again and took a bite of the bacon, too. "You're cute when you're pissed, mind."

APRIL

"The other night, when you called me over," Sirius murmured, "how did you get my number?" 

A red shade rose on Remus' cheeks, and he looked down before glancing back at Sirius. "I…well…so…when you were in the bathroom, on the second night here. You'd left your phone unlocked, so I called myself with it, to have your number." 

That was bad, wasn't it? Remus knew he shouldn't have done that. It was a bit stalkerish, an invasion of privacy. Yes, okay, he hadn't looked at anything else on the phone, nothing at all, he'd just gone to the dial screen and called himself. Still, that must've been some kind of violation. 

But when he looked at Sirius, searching for a reaction, Sirius was smiling. 

"You know when I picked up and said, 'Hi, Moony'?" he said, and Remus' eyes widened as he realised Sirius had answered already knowing it was him. "It's because I'd already done the same thing and saved your number on my phone." 

Remus slowly smiled and pulled Sirius down by the neck to kiss him senseless. He loved it. Loved that almost every night, Sirius came back to his flat, and everything in the world just felt right. It was like they were truly living in their own little world, where they pretended the fight club didn't exist, where Sirius wasn't constantly worried about Regulus, or bitter about being voted out. It was a little world where Remus didn't spend all his time remembering his own moments at the fight club, years and years ago, or obsessing over the fact that Sirius was a student. None of that mattered, because when eight o'clock struck and Sirius rang the doorbell, it was as though the world outside paused and only they kept moving, kept living. 

Having Sirius lying naked in his bed was one of the true pleasures in Remus' life at that moment.

Remus propped his elbow on the pillow and looked down at Sirius. With his fingertips, he traced the skin of Sirius' nose, the bruising now fading, the swelling completely gone. His fingers moved down, grazing his lower lip, his eyes fixed on Sirius' mouth, where the cut had already healed, leaving only the faintest mark behind. As his gaze moved up Sirius' face, still tinged with purples and yellows, Sirius' eyes were already watching him. 

"You're so otherworldly, cariad," he murmured. 

Sirius' breath hitched, his eyes widening for just a moment. Remus didn't understand why Sirius didn't kiss his face off right then, because that was exactly what he wanted to do—so he leaned down and kissed him, and kissed him, and just kept kissing him.

Many kisses later, and with a cup of tea, Remus was in the living room, arranging his favourite cushion under his calf so his knee would be elevated. He'd spent the day working, and after definitely not sleeping for several hours with Sirius in bed, he felt that deep, internal ache, like his knee was completely "worn out." Looking at it, it was slightly swollen, and that familiar stiffness he sometimes got was there too.

"Did you get it, Sirius?" Remus called out, fluffing the cushion a little more.

Sirius appeared in the doorway leading to the hallway just as the music playing on the record player Remus had brought from Wales drifted through the room: "So I say thank you for the music, the songs I'm singing."  He danced in the doorway with the ointment in his hand as if it were a microphone. His arms out, pyjama trousers swishing, hair a chaotic mess as he spun dramatically on the spot, turning full circles as he crossed the room.

And every time his spin brought him facing Remus again, he pulled a new face—first a wide, cheesy grin, then a mock pout, then a raised eyebrow, and finally a wink that made Remus laugh so hard his head tipped back against the sofa.

The music carried on as Sirius danced around the room, skipping and singing. He sang every word with an exaggerated yet genuine passion. And Remus couldn't help but laugh, watching Sirius' ridiculous and utterly charming moves. 

He did a little two-step beside the armchair, a questionable moonwalk by the coffee table, and finally a dramatic slide to the sofa like he was headlining Glastonbury.

"What a joy, what a life, what a chance?" Sirius belted out, flopping down on the green sofa before kissing Remus passionately, catching him mid-verse.

"Who can live without it? I ask in all honesty, what would life be?" Remus sang back.

"Of course you listen to ABBA, you old dork," Sirius said, opening the ointment. He scooped out a little and began rubbing it gently into the sides of Remus' knee, moving in slow, circular motions.

Remus watched him. Sirius had never done it before. The few times he'd seen him applying the ointment himself, he'd never said anything, just carried on talking while Remus got on with it. But now, he'd taken it and applied without being asked. And honestly, Remus hadn't even realised Sirius was paying attention.

"It's my mam's favourite band, it is," Remus said, closing his eyes as the relief began to spread with Sirius' touch. It wasn't instant like magic, but something steadier, something that came with every careful movement, every place the ointment warmed into his skin. "She watched them on Eurovision when she was young, obsessed over them ever since. I probably know every song by heart," he added with a quiet laugh.

"So, your mother likes ABBA, makes books from scratch, and she made you," Sirius said, closing the ointment and gently placing Remus' leg in his lap. 

"A woman of many talents," Remus joked. "Yeah, I'd say makin' me was her finest moment."

Sirius scrunched his nose. "I'd go for the books from scratch."

"Books from scratch, like a cake," Remus laughed.  "I like my books like those small, round griddle cakes with a bit of dried fruit, dusted with sugar, you know."

 Sirius grinned. "I like mine like a Victoria sponge, then. Think your Mother can make something like that?"

"Well, she is known for her banging bookbindin' abilities," he said, "and she passed it on to me… did you… I mean, I know you've read Dorian Gray before, but—"

"I read it again," Sirius said quickly, but lower. His finger brushed the cushion and then slowly brushed against Remus' leg. "You made that copy just for me?" he murmured.

"I did." And he'd do much more. He wanted to make copies of all his favourite books for Sirius, so he'd have a collection of one-of-a-kind editions. He wanted to find out which books Sirius loved and make those for him, too. And if Sirius wasn't actually all that into books, he wanted to learn about whatever it was he did love and then make that from scratch as well.

"Tell your mother I love her," Sirius joked, after just quietly brushing Remus' skin. "Do you miss her, like, all the time?"

"I mean, Wales isn't some far away—"

"But you can still miss her," he said. "What's she like?"

"Overprotective, really, really kind, and funny as anything," Remus said with a smile. "Got a small family, we do. My mam has a sister with no kids, my tad doesn't have any siblings… after my grandparents died, it was just us, you know? But she never let me feel like we were sort of alone. It was just us, and it was enough," he said. "Sometimes I feel awful that I just left them there. I mean, they've got good friends, but…"

"They probably really miss you," Sirius agreed, "but I also bet they're really happy you're here. Getting your PhD and teaching at one of the best universities in the country. You're a proper adult, you know?"

Remus mostly felt like a fraud. Like he was pretending to know what he was doing, pretending to have his shit together. Most of the time, he still felt like that lad just off his teenage years who'd got himself into a big amount of trouble and gone off the rails for a bit. Like that boy was still there in the back of his mind, and it simply didn't make sense to him — how being there with Sirius, who represented everything he once ran from, didn't make him feel worse. 

He should have been running from Sirius, but every time he was with him, everything seemed to fall into place. He didn't feel like a fraud. He didn't feel like he was pretending anything to the world.

"Did you leave a lot of friends back in Wales?" Sirius asked, the soft crackle of the vinyl filled the quiet between them, ABBA still playing faintly in the background.

"If you haven't noticed… I'm not the type to have loads of mates."

"I did not notice," Sirius teased.

"Yeah, not that many friends left behind, but one or two," he said. "Does the librarian count?"

Sirius laughed. "What about the professor? Barnaby?"

Remus gave him a look, seeing right through him. "Benjy."

"Right," Sirius deadpanned. "Benjy."

"Benjy," Remus repeated, "drove all the way here from Streatham Vale in the middle of the night just to take you, the injured student who messes about with all sorts of illegal events, to the hospital because I asked him to," Remus laughed. "Aye, he's a very good mate of mine."

Sirius rolled his eyes playfully. "Just a normal day for me," he joked. "But how did you meet him?"

"First week of uni," Remus said, "back when we were actually quite innocent. We both had bloody awful flatmates—mine was on his third girlfriend of the week and politely asked me to bugger off for the night again. Benjy's flatmate was… probably sellin' meth, to be honest. Found Benjy in the common room ringin' his mam," Remus chuckled at the memory. "We just sort of stuck by each other after that. Eventually ditched the rubbish flatmates and moved in together, and when… well, when I got myself mixed up with what I shouldn't, he came along too. Then, when I came back to London, years later, he let me crash on his sofa 'til I found this flat, and I got him a job at Hogwarts."

"Suppose he does sound like a rather good bloke," Sirius smiled, tilting his head.

"He's my best mate. When I went back to Wales, he got on a train and came after me, slept on my bedroom floor for a week before going back."

"Did Benjy… fight as well?" 

"Nah, he just put bets on me," Remus said. He didn't really want to talk about the fight club, especially not here, in his own flat.

Since the day Sirius came back and asked not to talk about it , it sort of became a little rule of theirs. Every time they were in the flat, they talked about everything but the fight club. They talked about funny memories from when they were younger, like how Sirius, until he was six, thought  Regulus was some sort of government-issued clone, sent to their family as a backup Sirius, and therefore legally obliged to copy everything he did. And about the time Remus tried to convince his whole primary school class he was a child spy, and that was why he missed so much school, not because he was ill.

Or when they talked about art and Sirius moaned about uni, but spoke so passionately about the act of creating it. And about which film they should watch when it seemed like Sirius had already seen every film ever made, or the times they did watch something and halfway through, Remus realised Sirius had seen it before—he could tell by the way Sirius watched Remus' face during the most tense or funny scenes, like he'd rather watch him than the film itself.

And they'd spend hours talking about absolutely everything and anything after they'd had sex. They wouldn't just fall asleep straight away because they had work or lectures the next day—oh no, they'd stay up talking the whole time.

When Remus asked Sirius about his classes and university, Sirius whined and complained, but the moment the subject shifted to art, to creating, he perked up. He spoke about art like it was something alive, not a person, but something living inside him. He genuinely had so much love for creating something, especially paintings and drawings. He talked about looking at a thing right there in front of him and putting it down on paper, but in his version, in his own view of the world. As if, when he made art, he was passing his version of the world into that painting.

They had so much in common and yet couldn't have been more different. Remus was the quieter one, Sirius was louder. Remus liked cooking, Sirius mostly burned whatever he touched. Remus was happy staying in with a book and a cuppa, while Sirius liked to be out dancing 'til four in the morning. Remus was more insecure, and there wasn't a single part of Sirius that wasn't brimming with confidence. Remus thought everything through before doing it, and Sirius… well, Sirius just did it first and thought about it later.

Yet, they burned with the same hunger, the same visions of life. Both were fiercely loyal, both shared that sharp, biting sense of humour. They both loved staying up late and hated getting out of bed in the morning. They both knew what it felt like to be on the outside looking in. Most of the time, they felt like the same person on different days. Because they felt the same. They burned the same.

So Remus knew exactly what Sirius was thinking.

"Alright, just a question then," he said.

"I've got a dilemma," Sirius announced, as dramatically as ever.

"Oh, so serious, are we?" Remus quipped and waited. 

Sirius grinned, wide and shameless. "I'm always Sirius." 

They held the moment for a beat, and then both burst out laughing.

"Tell me your big dilemma, then."

"I've just realised," Sirius began, frowning theatrically, "that all this time you could've been a Slytherin, and here I am shagging you like you might be a normal person."

Remus bit his lower lip, trying not to laugh. He carefully let his left leg slide off the sofa, folding his right beneath him to lean in closer to Sirius, who was still pulling his ridiculous, suspicious face. 

He kissed his chin, trailing down to his neck. "Would it really matter if I was a Slytherin?"

"It would be… dreadful," Sirius breathed, sighing as the kisses grew slower and wetter, "but I would— ah —probably have to stop seeing you."

"Oh no," Remus murmured, "would you, now?"

Sirius nearly groaned. "At first, yeah."

Remus smiled. "Lucky for you, then, out of all the residence halls, I lived in Gryffindor House."

Sirius frowned, pulling back a little. "Wait. Did that matter back in the ancient days of the club?"

"Ancient days? It's hardly been ten years."

"And that's like a lifetime, grandad."

Remus rolled his eyes, smiling. "Aye, if you were betting, it was almost a rule to back someone from your own hall. And if you were a fighter, same thing. If you didn't live in one of the student halls, you'd just side with whichever one was closest to where you lived, simple as that. Did it really change?"

Sirius tilted his head, thoughtful, fingers running through Remus' hair. "Now it's more like… you join and pick a side based on the founders. The ones who aren't all that loyal will back a Hufflepuff one day, a Ravenclaw the next," he shrugged. "I knew the halls' names must have been a reference, but I didn't realise it actually worked like that."

"To be fair," Remus said, with a bit of a shrug, "most people who joined the club were already in the halls that suited them best, if I'm honest. If they really felt strongly about a house, they'd move, but it didn't happen much. And when you pick your halls, you tend to go for the one that feels like the best fit, you know? Like, the founder you feel most like. I've only heard of maybe one or two who swapped halls just to change houses, really."

"There's so much we don't know, isn't there?"

"You've got no idea," Remus said, closing his eyes as Sirius' hand moved gently over his scalp. "It's always been that way. You figure out a bit while you're in it, but never enough for it to really matter, 'cause soon enough, you're out."

The fingers in his hair paused for a moment, and with his head resting against the sofa, Remus opened his eyes to find Sirius watching him. He could see more questions dancing behind Sirius' eyes, questions he knew he didn't want to answer, and he noticed that Sirius had realised the same.

"Islington is closest to Slytherin House, so my cousin, Bella—"

"Yeah, the Slytherin queen herself, if you will."

"I fucking choose wisely. I'll be a Gryffindor until the day I die—"

"Don't go die on me over some daft shit," Remus said, grabbing Sirius' hand from his hair. He took the back of it and pressed a kiss to his palm. "That's not everything."

Sirius paused for a moment, then carefully swung a leg over and straddled Remus' lap. He hovered over his face and kissed him softly,  his hands resting at Remus' neck, his thighs squeezing his waist. Sirius was all over him, and Remus loved it.

Whenever they were alone like this, Sirius was always all over him. If they were in bed, Sirius was draped across him. If Remus was reading a book in the living room, Sirius would rest his head on his lap, or his feet, and stay there. When he was marking lessons, Sirius would run his fingers through his hair or sometimes just rest his cheek against Remus' shoulder.

It was like some part of Sirius always had to be touching him — a hand resting on his knee, an ankle brushing his under the table, his chest pressed against Remus' back as they listened to records on the floor.

Lips were calm against his, fitting together in a slow, sweet kiss. Sunday night, just a little while ago, and now it was almost one in the morning, and he had to wake up early, but right then, they had all the time in the world.

Sirius pressed another kiss to his lips and smiled, eyes glinting with that familiar mischief.

"Hi, I'm Sirius," he joked.

A big smile. Eyes wide and bright, almost too bright. "I'm fine. Really fine, actually, I'm great."

"Wait, what's that river in Egypt called again?" Sirius asked, feigning dramatic confusion. "Oh, right—the denial!"

"I'm not in denial, I'm—"

"Why the fuck is Lily dating Dorcas again?" Sirius cut in. "And you're going out Studdy Boardman. You do know people say he's like a less fit version of me, right?"

"Believe it or not, Sirius," Mary muttered back at him, "I didn't think about that."

"You didn't think at all," Sirius muttered in return. "The plan after that night at the pub was to assess the situation and then make a move."

"Clearly, I assessed the situation wrong, because it's been a few weeks and they're actively dating!"

"You and Lily have been verbally edging each other for months," he went on, entirely ignoring her. "You're always together, you live together, I genuinely have no clue how you haven't fucked each other 24/7. Please, enlighten me, what the fuck is going on?"

"I don't know, okay? I don't know," Mary burst out. "I already told you that I've fancied her since the moment I met her, and half the time I've met her, she was dating James, who's now dating Regulus, but what if the only reason she's not with James now is because he's no longer available? They were literally shagging one time when Regulus walked in—

"Ugh, fuck, what now?"

"It was like… the beginning of the first term? I don't even know," Mary said, visibly cringing. "She told me James said they should've shut the door because Regulus saw them. Or something like that. Honestly, I know far too much about their past sex life. I bought them condoms."

"You what?" Sirius blinked. "Why the fuck did you buy them condoms?"

"She needed condoms, so I offered! I fucking panicked!"

"And that's why I keep saying we all should just stop using protection," Sirius muttered, deadpan.

"Oh my god, shut up," Mary snapped. "You're such a bitch."

"Rather them a dumb bitch who buys condoms for the person they fancy," Sirius pointed out. "I usually, you know, just fuck them."

"Lily is a relationship person…she dated James, she dated Dorcas, James isn't available anymore, so she's dating Dorcas again. And what? I'm supposed to sulk? There's a hymen here waiting to be touched by something that's not a tiny tampon, so maybe I'm doing exactly the right thing by going out with Boardman, because Dorcas and Lily aren't just messing about, they're actually dating!"

Sirius fell quiet for a moment. "You really should stop using tampons like that."

"Sirius," Mary laughed, all bright, all fake again, "relax, I'm fine. I'm almost done with uni. I'm going out on a date with Boardman, and even if that works out, I just feel like if you're a single girl in your twenties, you need to be in a 'trouple' at least once, so I might do that."

"I did it," Sirius said to her, "and believe me, darling, you're not cut out for it."

"Just because you had a threesome with a bloke while his husband watched doesn't mean it's a trouple—"

"I saw them loads of times," Sirius interrupted. "We were practically a family."

"What are you two on about?" ​​Lily cut in.

They were sprawled out on the grass of the Hogwarts quad, jackets shrugged around their shoulders against the cool breeze, the spring sun slipping in and out of thin clouds above. Around them, students were perched in clusters on the damp grass, takeaway coffee cups and meal deals scattered as they chattered.

"Just telling M how much I'm gonna miss you both once you both finally piss off and finish uni," Sirius said, fluttering his lashes.

Lily put her hands on her hips. "We're starting our master's straight away," she laughed. "You know I got the position as Research Assistant for McGonagall."

"Oh, right," Sirius waved his hand. "You're stuck here like the rest of us sad bastards."

"You're here because you want to be," Lily shot back, grinning. "You all decided to do uni part-time so you could spend more time, what was it again?"

"I needed to sort my priorities," Sirius shrugged. "Shockingly…education was never really one of them."

Lily rolled her eyes and Sirius laughed, pulling her to sit beside him on the grass and draping his arm over her shoulder. Next to them, Mary stayed quiet, clutching her essay draft for her Media Ethics and Regulation class. Sirius knew all about it since this was the first time he'd managed to talk to Mary about Lily and Dorcas — until now, every time Mary sensed he was about to bring it up, she'd start babbling about her classes, what she had to finish, what was left for graduation.

"How is the essay going?" Lily asked. "Whenever I'm home, you're always buried in it —"

"It's because you haven't been around the flat much," Mary interrupted, her voice almost too sweet. "And it's not the essay… I'm just doing final proofreading in my feedback sessions. Most nights I'm studying for my final project presentation, so."

Lily forced a smile. "Right. Well, yes, I've already handed in everything I had to —"

"Me too," Mary cut in again. "Already submitted everything, just need to proofread this essay. I'm not behind."

"Yeah, totally," Lily hesitated, biting her lip. "I just meant I've submitted everything and, like you, I'm just studying for what's needed and…what I was going to say is if you're free, maybe we could do a movie night this week. Just us, some takeout and Love Island."

Mary stopped rustling her papers and looked properly at Lily with a low, curious look. "Yeah, that would be great."

There was a brief, stiff silence before Sirius cut in, voice breaking the tension. "Thanks for the invite, but I'll be busy doing nothing."

Mary laughed at him and stayed focused on Lily. "We could order —"

Before Mary could finish, Lily gently interrupted, her voice bright with recognition. "Is that Dorcas? Dorcas!" She waved her hand, smiling. Mary immediately turned her head. "And… Marlene!?" At that, Sirius snapped his head to look.

A few metres away, heading towards the university gates, stood Dorcas and Marlene. 

"Marls! Marls!" Sirius shouted, waving his hand high above his head. A few students glanced over, but he carried on until the two of them made their way across.

"Hi, Lils," Dorcas said, sitting down next to Lily and planting a quick kiss on her lips. "Didn't know you were still on campus."

"I was looking for Mary."

"What's up, dickheads?" Marlene said, standing beside them. "Almost didn't hear you lot."

"Really? I thought I was being pretty loud. On purpose," Sirius joked.

"I've got to head to work, but figured you probably had some chips, so I thought I'd stop by," Marlene said, dropping her bag by her feet.

"Opportunist," Sirius laughed. He reached into his own bag and pulled out a packet of crisps for her. "Have you seen Regulus?" he asked Dorcas.

"We don't have classes together today," she replied. "He's probably either in a lecture or in the library trying to catch up on all the deadlines he's missed."

Sirius frowned, his eyebrows drawing together. He knew his brother was struggling, just like he had all year. Regulus had always been an excellent student, but since their parents died, he'd become average and sometimes even below. Sirius was already helping him with his studies, but wanted to do more. Maybe he could pay someone to do Regulus' coursework for him.

"So, you two don't hate each other anymore?" Mary asked, all perky again. Sirius glanced at her sideways, then at Marlene.

"I was leaving," Marlene said, "and we bumped into each other. We were walking together."

"You bumped into each other," Mary laughed.

"So, you two really don't hate each other anymore?" Sirius asked.

Marlene gave him a look that could've killed a man.

"I guess somewhere between police raids and our best mates getting battered, we sort of managed to be normal about each other," Dorcas said, glancing at Marlene as if checking whether she'd agree.

"Brilliant," Lily smiled, leaning in to kiss Dorcas on the cheek. "Told you ages ago, Marlene is great."

"Yeah, you did."

"Glad I finally get you two to hang out without someone throwing hands," Lily added.

"Yeah, proper fun," Marlene muttered, not quite rolling her eyes. "Can't wait to be in the same vicinity as more Slytherins," she joked. "I blame Regulus."

"Honestly, me too," Sirius said.

"What?" Dorcas laughed. "You don't want a proper party? We'll call Barty and Evan, make a night of it—"

"I draw the line at Pandora," Marlene said firmly.

Mary stayed quiet, watching the little exchanges pass between them all. Then she spoke, her voice light but clear. "We were thinking of having a movie night. It was just going to be Love Island in our tiny flat, but we could switch to an actual film at Sirius' big flat."

Sirius froze, crisp halfway to his mouth. "I thought it was a Lily-and-Mary thing."

"There is no Lily-and-Mary thing," Mary said. Then, glancing round at all of them, "What do you lot reckon? We could invite everyone. Jorkins, Peter's girlfriend, could join in too."

"Jorkins? In my house—?" Sirius started, horrified.

"That'd be great," Lily cut in, finally breaking the tension with a smile. "I'll text James. What do you think, Cas? Can you make it? This Friday night."

Dorcas shifted her gaze away from Marlene and gave a small nod. "Sure."

"Great," Marlene grinned, grabbing a crisp. "It'll be awesome."

It wouldn't be awesome.  

It'd be awkward and uncomfortable. And let's be honest, Marlene would probably try to use him as a distraction, and so would Mary, after seeing the mess she'd made. And to be fair, Sirius would kind of thrive on it if he wasn't so bloody bored. He hated popcorn, and he didn't want to watch a movie without Remus.

"Did Mary organise this?" Regulus murmured to him in the kitchen. Both were watching the living room where all the guests were chatting, passing around bowls of popcorn and drinking wine. Most people had arrived by now and were scattered across the sofa or around the dining table.

"I said, no chit-chat until the game is over! Everybody shut the fuck up!" James yelled from the middle of the sofa, glued to the football match — his Brazilian team, wearing their colours green and burgundy. "Vamos, caralho! Chuta a bola!" he shouted.

Regulus gave him a look. "On the day his team's playing, really? You know how he gets."

"Thought it would spice things up a bit if his team loses," Sirius grinned at him over the rim of his wine glass. "We get a mildly irritated James, an on-edge Mary, a panicked Marlene, an oblivious Lily, and a—"

"Worried Dorcas."

"—and maybe we'll actually get something interesting out of this night," Sirius finished, smirking.

Regulus let out a quiet laugh and took a sip of his wine. "I asked Dorcas how and why she and Lily got back together, and she told me she has no idea."

"At least they look good together," Sirius said.

The two of them glanced over at the dining table where Lily and Dorcas sat close, hands tangled together on the tabletop. Lily's bright red hair spilt down her shoulders, brushing against Dorcas' long black microbraids whenever they leaned in for a kiss.

"Yes. But Mary is obviously into Lily, who likes her back, but thinks Mary is not interested, so she's with Dorcas, who got some weird sexual tension with Marlene, who just happens to be Lily's childhood mate."

"You're getting the hang of our incestuous little group," Sirius said with a grin.

"Mas o que que é isso? CHUTA A BOLA! Não pode perder um gol desse!" James shouted again from the sofa, then turned round. "I said shut the fuck up!"

"Let's just hope no one comes out murdered tonight," Regulus muttered.

"Oh, Regulus," Sirius smiled over his glass, lazy and wicked, "I reckon a lot of things might come out tonight."

"I'm straight."

Everyone started booing Peter, laughing as he ducked away from the handfuls of popcorn they were chucking at him.

"Boring!"

"Boooo!" 

"Rubbish!" 

"Get out!" Lily shouted, lobbing a handful of popcorn at him. 

James cupped his hands around his mouth like a megaphone. "Straight? In this day and time?"

"You lot asked if I was sure," Peter laughed, shielding his face. "I mean, I saw it, you know, like, when Sirius held that press conference in the prefects' loo at 13 to announce he was gay, I considered it. Then James told me he shagged his parents' pool boy when he was 17, I considered it again… but yeah, not for me."

"Must be rough being the only straight one out," Mary teased. "What about you, Jorkins?"

"Straight," she said, clinging to Peter's arm with a grin. "Or better yet, I'm Petersexual." She giggled.

Sirius smirked, leaning back. "Christ, darling, aim higher."

Peter grinned, throwing popcorn at him. "Oi, don't be jealous. And where's your boyfriend then, Sirius? Oh, right—no one's aiming for you."

"You're right. I'm a wretched old spinster," Sirius shrugged, grabbing the bottle of Sauvignon Blanc to pour himself another glass. After a slow sip, he pushed himself up from the sofa, stretching his legs as he stood. He sauntered towards the kitchen, the soft thud of his footsteps being silenced by the loud room.

Pausing by the stove, he peeked inside the oven, checking the cheese and onion pasties baking away, the warm, savoury aroma filling the air. Satisfied they were just about ready, he carefully retrieved the tray, placing it on the counter to cool for a moment before carrying it back to the living room with an unopened bottle of wine.

"You cooked?" Lily asked, surprised, as she took one the moment Sirius set them on the coffee table.

They were all sprawled on the deep sofas or sitting cross-legged around the dark coffee table on the soft grey rug. The large flat-screen telly flickered quietly above the sleek black console, casting a soft glow across the airy, bright room. Outside the large windows, the city lights blurred into the evening, and the soft glow from the standing lamp by the sofa warmed the edges of the space as they gathered together.

"Just a little something," Sirius said.

"I didn't know you cooked," Peter remarked, grabbing one too.

"He mostly burns things," Regulus replied. "Can't believe this worked out."

"He's been cooking for us," James said, blowing a kiss at Sirius. "Since the Battle of Hogwarts, he's been taking care of things here."

"Enough, enough, you lot know I don't like to brag about my talents. Let's change the subject."

"Said Sirius Black for the first time ever," Marlene joked.

"Mark the date, McKinnon, history's just been made," Dorcas quipped.

" Oh, so Padfoot was telling the truth," James said curiously. Sirius carried on chewing his pasties. "You two really don't hate each other anymore."

Sirius paused mid-chew and glanced at Marlene, who was already looking at him like she wanted to throttle him.

"I can mature," Marlene said.

"I don't believe it," Peter said back.

"Neither do I," Jorkins snorted.

Marlene pointed at her with her wine glass, squinting. "Oh, Bertha, you're lucky I'm drunk enough to let that slide."

"I reckon you're going to have to sit next to each other," James said, "then I might believe it. But Marlene can't spill wine on Dorcas." 

They all laughed. Lily smiled against her glass, and Dorcas gave Marlene a knowing side-eye, already amused.

"I'm very comfortable on the floor, thank you," Marlene said, taking a large gulp of wine.

"Dorcas, you can get down there," Regulus put in, and Sirius could see the evil brewing in his brother's mind. "Go on."

"Prove it," James said, grinning. "Prove it! Prove it!"

Dorcas laughed, got up from her spot beside Lily on the sofa, and plopped down next to Marlene on the carpet. "See? No wine, no fights."

"Reggie, what's the verdict?" Sirius asked.

"Hmmm… not convinced," Regulus said after a long pause. 

"What've we got to do to prove it?" Dorcas asked, giggling, already a bit tipsy. "Not murder each other?"

"Kiss!" Lily blurted out, her cheeks already flushed pink from the wine.

"Oh my God, yes, kiss!" James jumped in without missing a beat, nearly spilling his wine in his excitement.

"I can't kiss your girlfriend," Marlene laughed at Lily. "Bit weird, don't you think?"

"Please, it's just a kiss, prove it," Lily pleaded.

"Kiss, kiss, kiss," James started chanting, banging his palm against the coffee table like he was calling for a pub fight.

Sirius glanced at Mary, who was wide-eyed, then at Regulus, who had gone quiet, before looking back at Marlene and Dorcas, who were now trying not to look at each other.

" I think we should watch the film," Mary said, her eyes flicking nervously between them and Lily.

"No, let them kiss!" Jorkins barked. 

"I want to see real proof that you don't hate each other!" James declared. 

"Fine!" Marlene said, downing the rest of her wine in one go, then she turned and gave a quick peck on Dorcas' lips.

"How bloody boring was that!" Peter yelled. 

"I didn't know we were watching a children's film," James agreed with him. 

"Come on, give us a real kiss," Lily laughed. 

"Kiss, kiss, kiss!"

Before Sirius could even think about stepping in again, Dorcas and Marlene locked eyes—and suddenly, they were gone.

Sirius couldn't tell the exact moment things got awkward, but the instant their lips met, their whole demeanour shifted. The kiss started calmly, then Dorcas placed her hand on Marlene's face, who covered Dorcas' hand with hers, fingers curling possessively around Dorcas' wrist, and suddenly the kiss deepened.

It was probably at that moment that everyone realised this wasn't just a bit of fun. Not with the way their lips moved, the possessiveness, the longing. There was no denying what they were seeing.

The shift from 'it's just a joke' to 'this is wildly inappropriate' happened so quickly that James, who had been grinning broadly, now looked completely stunned. Peter's mouth was hanging open, Regulus had a hand pressed over his own mouth, visibly re-evaluating every social engagement he'd ever attended, Mary's eyes were locked on Lily, and Lily… well, Lily wore a frozen, confused smile.

It was like watching a car crash in slow motion, but with snacks. And wine. And Sirius couldn't look away.

The two pulled apart and immediately moved away from each other. Dorcas' fingers rested lightly against her lips.

"Kiss, kiss, you lot were… so…" Marlene laughed, trying to sound casual. "Well, we kissed."

"Funny," James let out a weak laugh, giving Regulus a pointed look. "It was funny."

"Should we… should we watch a film?" Mary said, in her all-bright voice.

"Yeah, let's watch that film," Dorcas agreed, standing up and plopping down between Lily and Regulus.

Silence hung over the room. 

Pop.

Sirius opened the bottle of wine, and instead of pouring, he took a long swig straight from the neck. "I'm very excited for summer. What about you lot?"

APRIL

"The top of a banana is where it was attached to the bunch," Remus laughed.

"No, it's not. That's the bottom," Sirius disagreed.

"The top of the banana is the stem end—"

"'End' means bottom!"

Remus chuckled and slung his arm over Sirius' shoulder, pulling him close while Sirius still disagreed with him. 

They were walking through the crowds at Camden Market, weaving between the endless streams of people. Sometimes, Remus still felt a bit uneasy being out in public with Sirius like this, but it was hard to worry about being seen in one of the most crowded markets in London. Even on a Wednesday at half ten in the morning, there were tourists everywhere, faces he was fairly certain he'd never see again.

Usually, this day would be reserved for a meeting with his PhD supervisor or for research, but he'd already got ahead on his work and was down to the final details for his thesis submission. And truth be told, the evenings weren't enough anymore—he wanted his mornings with Sirius, too.

"Are you sure you're meant to be mitching right now?" Remus asked as they stopped near the Amy Winehouse statue. He didn't like the idea of ​​Sirius not being present in class at all.

"It's just revision with Binns, I'll be fine," Sirius promised, tugging him towards the cheddar and onion grilled cheese stall. If there was one thing about Sirius it was that he was always hungry, maybe it had to do with the fact that he never ate breakfast and was too lazy to eat lunch at the proper time, so his schedules were all over the place, but there wasn't a moment when they were together that Sirius didn't want to eat something.

"That'll be eight quid," the bloke behind the counter said, and Remus pulled out the cash to pay. "Eating together? I can cut it for you," he offered.

"Yes, please," Sirius said brightly. "Good sir,"—the bloke looked about their age—"would you say the top of a banana is the stem end?"

"Erm… yeah? Seems about right."

"You're dead wrong," Sirius said. He looked at Remus. "And so are you."

"I told you," Remus laughed.

After grabbing their food and something to drink, they found one of the little tables nearby and sat down together. It was a cool, breezy spring morning, and each day the heat was taking over their days.

Sirius was biting into the grilled cheese while Remus watched his face. His bruises had yellowed at the edges, fading from deep purple to sickly green and dull brown. His eye was no longer swollen shut, though a faint shadow of the black eye lingered beneath it. The bridge of his nose was still slightly red and tender where the brace had been, the skin marked faintly by the tape, but otherwise healing.

"Your bruises are fadin'," Remus said with a relief he hadn't realised he needed, like a weight lifted from his chest. Sirius looked so much better as it had been more than two weeks since he'd been attacked.

"Am I beautiful again?" Sirius teased, eyebrows slightly raised and playful, wide eyes.

"You are always beautiful, Sirius," Remus murmured, biting into his piece of grilled cheese, the heat of the melted cheese exploding with flavour in his mouth. "You know that."

"But I like to hear you say it," he shrugged. 

Remus continued chewing and took a sip of the lemonade and ginger juice they had bought to go with it. He passed the plastic cup to Sirius, realising that they had only bought one snack and a drink to share instead of buying one for each of them. But Remus liked it, he liked it when Sirius finished his piece and started trying to steal his, he liked it when Sirius brought the straw to his mouth so he could drink, he liked sharing his food with Sirius.

"You're the most gorgeous person I've ever met," Remus breathed, shaking his head, "and you like it when someone like me tells you that you're beautiful, do you now?"

Sirius looked at him intently, and it was heaven to see both of his eyes open and shining at him. "Exactly. Everyone thinks that, so it's good to hear it from someone who actually matters."

Oh.

Oh, God. His fucking heart. It felt like he'd just been shot. Like someone had reached inside his chest, cracked it open, got a hold of his heart and just tore it to shreds.

Remus was in big trouble. No. No. Remus was in the biggest fucking trouble of his life because Sirius Black had officially driven him mad. Completely off his head. Proper done for.

There in front of him, with his lips dirty with cheddar and a mouth full of the piece he'd stolen from Remus, Sirius Black said the most devastating thing he could possibly have said.

Remus mattered.

He put Remus in a place he couldn't possibly ignore, he set Remus apart, in a little box exclusive to the people who mattered in his life. He put Remus in a place beyond the nights of endless sex, somewhere other than something all the more enjoyable because it was forbidden. He put Remus almost on a pedestal, because deep down he felt that the people who mattered to Sirius were few and deserving, and somehow, somehow, Remus was one of them.

Maybe he was being mad, maybe he was freaking out for no reason at all, but the fucking madness, the awful, horrible, lovely truth was that he was completely fucking obsessed with Sirius Black.

It wasn't just about his skin anymore, or about wanting to fuck him so thoroughly that he was engraved into Sirius. He already did that, hadn't he? Every single fucking night, basically, and it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough.

He knew him. Remus knew him. Remus knew Sirius Black and trouble were the very same thing. And he was still obsessed with him.

"Want to go to the shops?" Sirius asked excitedly, his face now clear as he held out both hands – one holding the cup and the other the paper straw near Remus' mouth.

Remus drank from the straw Sirius held out for him. "Aye, let's go on."

Their hands were clasped together as they wandered through Camden Market. It was quieter than it would be later, or on a weekend, but even so, the place was never empty. People still drifted past—tourists with cameras slung around their necks, locals nursing takeaway coffees, traders setting up their stalls with half-hearted chatter.

Around them, the market stretched out in a jumble of colours and sounds: shopfronts painted in bold, peeling colours, oversized sculptures hanging from the buildings, and narrow passageways lined with racks of vintage jackets, old vinyl records, and handmade jewellery. 

"So, we need to get you some vinyls that aren't ABBA," Sirius said, glancing out at the market stalls.

"I just got what my mam had," Remus explained with a little laugh. "But fair enough, go on then, musical oracle, what should I get?"

"Depends whether we're sticking to before the eighties or going past it," Sirius said, running his fingers through the vinyls at a busy stall. "Rock or pop?" He held up a Dua Lipa record.

"You like Dua Lipa?" Remus asked, and the surprise in his voice didn't go unnoticed.

"I can't like Dua Lipa?"

"No, it's just… You like Dua Lipa?"

"Dua Lipa is fucking great. Why are you saying that in this pretentious, twatty way?" Sirius asked, dropping the record and turning to face him.

Remus laughed, shrugging. "I mean, from all the pop singers? Dua Lipa is not exactly the most…"

"The most what? Future Nostalgia is excellent. The critics agree with me."

"Oh, aye, well if the critics agree," Remus teased, grinning.

Sirius made an offended noise. "Alright, dickhead. You're going to tell me you like some underground indie pop singer no one has heard of, is that it?"

"No," Remus kept laughing at how utterly outraged Sirius sounded. "I like popular music."

"Oh, don't tell me you like 2013 Lorde."

"I do, actually. But I'm really into Gaga, see. She's one of my favourite artists."

Sirius stared at him in silence for a moment. "You pretentious bastard."

"How am I pretentious for saying I like one of the most popular artists alive? Well, I also like Fatboy Slim."

"Oh, fuck you."

"How on earth d'ye manage to get excellent grades in ma classes while barely liftin' a finger or payin' a scrap o' attention, Mr Black? Truly astonishin'," Professor Silvanus Kettleburn said.

Sirius smiled. "I like to be surprising like that, sir," he replied, leaning against the wall beside one of his paintings.

The exhibition of his Independent Study Project had drawn a lively crowd, filled with students from Fine Arts and beyond—people from Literature, History, and even the occasional curious face from the Sciences. It was always the kind of event that attracted a mixed bunch, some genuinely interested in the work, others there for the free snacks and drinks being passed around. Glasses clinked quietly in corners as people wandered between canvases, sculptures, and installations, their footsteps softened by the thick rugs covering the stone floors.

The Hogwarts gallery was an airy space flooded with natural light from the tall, arched windows that stretched almost to the ceiling. The stone walls, normally cold and grey, were softened by banners and temporary panels covered in bright student work. There was a faint hum of conversation echoing beneath the vaulted ceiling, and the scent of oil paint and varnish lingered in the air, mixing strangely with the aroma of coffee from a small refreshments table in the corner.

The assessment panel, composed of Fine Arts lecturers and a few guest tutors, moved steadily through the room, stopping at each piece to question the artist. They asked about technique, intent, and process, scribbling notes on clipboards as they listened. It wasn't just a formality; every answer, every stumble, and every confident explanation counted towards the final mark.

It bored Sirius.

The creating, painting, making part gave him life, but this? Sitting around while a bunch of self-important prats evaluated him? That was the most boring shit ever.

Everything was so fucking boring, but perhaps most especially this past May. Ever since the Battle of Hogwarts had happened at the end of April and his brother had decided to pretend he was a fighter and got beaten up by Bellatrix, even though he beat her up more, he had dedicated himself to taking care of him and James. He slept most nights at the flat, he cooked, he cleaned their wounds, and he definitely didn't have the time to see Remus.

"Hmm," a voice came from beside him. It was Peter, holding hands with Jorkins, with Marlene beside them. "Ain't you good at this?"

"I try," Sirius joked, as they all looked around at the paintings near him.

"Sirius Black doesn't try, come on," Peter joked back, elbowing him lightly in the ribs.

James had already been there earlier, lingering for most of the afternoon, keeping Sirius company until Regulus turned up. The two of them stayed a little longer, talking and laughing softly before slipping away. Lily and Mary had wandered through as well, with the Prewetts. Later on, Kingsley arrived with Vance and Jones, but as they drifted in and out as they had other friends there, Kingsley spent his time at Sirius' side.

Marlene's gaze lingered on one of the canvases, then shifted back to Sirius. "It's brilliant, Sirius."

Sirius eyed her for a moment, then blurted out, "So, you and Lily still being weird around each other?"

Marlene paused and rolled her eyes. "Can't today be about you?"

"Every day is," Sirius shrugged. "Come on, I'm bored. Spill."

"It's so bloody awkward," Jorkins said instead of her. "We saw Lily in the cafeteria today, and they were both like, pretending to talk. I've never seen two people pretend to have a conversation, but they did."

"Thank you so fucking much, Bertha," Marlene said flatly.

"She's not wrong," Peter muttered, already taking a step to the side, like they'd had this conversation before and it hadn't ended well. "Every time you two are in the same room, I feel like killing myself from all the awkwardness."

Marlene huffed and crossed her arms. "We just need some time."

"It's been how many weeks now? Like summer hols are in—"

"We just need time. It was a weird situation."

"Yeah, you snogged her girlfriend," Jorkins laughed, hand on her hip.

Sirius bit back a laugh when Marlene shot her a deadly look.

"I didn't. It was just a joke," she said. "And she asked me to."

"Did she know you two had the hots for each other? Jorkins asked as Marlene choked on her words.

"Alright, Jorkins, darling," Sirius said, stepping between them, "I know we're not getting any action until after the hols, but what about you shut the fuck up before someone punches you?"

"Sorry, sorry," Jorkins said, raising her hands, then quickly taking Peter's hand again. She rested her cheek on his shoulder. "It is tragic, though."

"Yeah, Jorkins. It is quite tragic," Sirius sneered. "Marlene is probably working out whose girlfriend she needs to snog next to make people forget what happened—guess that's her style now."

"Piss off, both of you," Marlene snapped, flipping them the bird. She stormed off, her blond hair whipping with her quick pace, leaving the gallery as quickly as possible.

"Thought today was about me," Sirius yelled after her.

"Fuck off!"

Despite the looks they were getting, Sirius laughed with Peter. "How bad is it, though?" he asked, since Peter lived with Marlene.

"Oh, mate, it's bad. Like, proper bad," Peter said to him. "I reckon if that happened to me, I'd yeet myself down the Tube tracks." 

"If you were Marlene or Lily?" Sirius asked, with a laugh.

"Marlene," Peter said, "she basically tongued her best mate's girlfriend in front of everyone." 

"Don't say 'tongued', Pete," Jorkins scolded. 

"Go on, say it three times fast," Sirius grinned, elbowing him. "Bet you can't without sounding like a perv."

"Tongued, tongued, tongued—"

"Aren't you worried about your mates?" Jorkins cut in. "Didn't know they were that close, anyway." 

Not like Jorkins spent much time with them, truth be told. Peter never made much effort either, and no one had ever been particularly fond of her. Marlene was probably the one who knew her best. Sirius couldn't care less. 

"They've known each other since, what, Year 11? And now Lily is convinced there's something going on between Marlene and her girlfriend… it's just completely weird," Peter said to her, then turned back to Sirius. "Mary told me that Lily and Dorcas had some kind of fight that night at their flat later on, but then never spoke about it again and just carried on like nothing."

"Really? They had a row?" Sirius asked, already plotting how to squeeze that info about Dorcas out of Regulus. "Do you reckon—"

"Mr Black," Professor Kettleburn returned, a small group in tow. "Would ye be so kind as to enlighten these first years about yer project? Seems it's causing a bit of a commotion. Everyone is talking about your pieces."

"Do I have to?" Sirius said, pretending to joke. The group laughed, as did the professor, but Sirius wanted to throw himself out of a window.

Spending a whole day answering questions from professors who were just waiting for him to slip up, and from students dying for advice, wasn't how Sirius wanted to spend his time. But he knew how to behave when he really needed to. He wasn't going to plaster on a fake smile or toss out fancy words just to impress or tell them what they wanted to hear. No, he presented his project in his own straightforward way—honest, sharp, and with a touch of his usual wit. He let the work speak for itself, cutting through the nonsense and skipping the fluff.

With no one else around, Sirius wandered through the empty university gallery, looking at the others' work and trying to figure out what drove them, what motivated them. He loved this part, trying to work out what the artist was thinking. His phone buzzed just as he was about to leave the empty gallery.

"Hi, Moony," he smiled to himself, his voice softening.

"I miss you terribly, cariad," came the voice on the other end, like kisses in Sirius' ear.

"Remember when you used to tell me to get the fuck out when you saw me?" Sirius asked with a broad grin.

"And you used to call me fuckface," Remus replied, amused. "How was the exhibition?"

"Fine. I'm still here," Sirius said, glancing around the quiet, dimly lit corridor. "Was just leaving. You?"

"I'm in my office."

Sirius thought for a second. "Would you like to see my pieces?"

There was a rustling sound on the other end, then Remus' calm voice, "I would love to."

After hanging up, Sirius looked around, unsure of what to do next. He didn't think Remus would agree to see him at Hogwarts without hiding away in his office after hours. He walked the corridor to make sure no one was about, then returned to the gallery for a final check. He flicked on the lights he needed, the harsh glow cutting through the shadows and throwing long shapes across the walls. He adjusted his clothes just as he heard footsteps approaching.

Remus smiled at him.

The light caught on half his face while the other stayed in soft shadow. He wore a light blue button-up shirt with the top buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up, tucked into dark, high-waisted trousers held by a brown leather belt. His hands were tucked into his pockets, shoulders relaxed, looking every bit like the man Sirius was mad about.

Amber eyes swept over Sirius, taking him in completely, as if they hadn't seen each other in months. He was wearing a cropped white top paired with loose, baggy black jeans held up by a black grommet belt. Over it, his favourite classic black leather jacket. A bold red tie hung loosely around his neck — for formalities, of bloody, of course. 

"I don't think Professor Binns liked my outfit very much," Sirius said. 

Remus took a few steps towards him, stopping close and looking him up and down. "I think Professor Binns is fucking bonkers, then." He tilted Sirius' chin up and gave him a soft kiss.

He wanted to stay there kissing him, but instead he took Remus' hand and led him over to where his five paintings were set up, the ones he'd worked on through all three terms.

"So, professor," he said with a little grin, "my project is called Dead Poets Don't Care, and it's about, you know, tradition and contemporary hell, I suppose. I took classical figures and threw them into a different context… my context."

There were five pieces in front of them. Five paintings—some with aggressive brushstrokes and saturated colours, others with more fluid lines, and some with lighter, more delicate textures.

Figures from distant times—Wilde, Woolf, Baldwin, Dickinson, da Vinci—were resurrected through abstraction. As one approached each canvas and placed the dedicated headphones, a distorted narration of their words filled the air, layered with the raw energy of punk music. Each voice, warped yet vivid, intertwined with gritty guitar riffs and pounding drums, transforming the silent images into living, breathing protests. The experience was immersive—an intense collision of history and rebellion, where the classical and the chaotic converged in a relentless dialogue across time.

"I just put them in my world," Sirius murmured, watching the larger painting of Oscar Wilde. "I wanted Wilde loud, like the Sex Pistols screaming through the air."

The edges are scratched with hand-scrawled verses, while torn clippings from old newspapers, headlines screaming scandals and social critiques, were pasted haphazardly, adding raw texture. Amidst this chaos stands a vivid, aggressively brushed portrait of Oscar Wilde, bursting with colour and life.

"This… this is your art?"

"Yes."

"They're all…" Remus let his gaze drift from the painting of James Baldwin to Emily Dickinson, "queer artists."

"Yes."

"When you talk about art, I've always known you cared. But when you talk about school, it's like…" Remus tilted his head slightly, frowning in thought. "I just never imagined you'd create somethin' like this for a project. I thought it would be—" he paused, letting out a breath, "I don't know. I thought it would be different. You talk about art like it's alive, like it's somethin' inside you. I didn't realise that part of you would show in what you were forced to do. You're incredible, you are."

Sirius let his gaze rest on Remus, watching the way Remus' eyes moved across each painting, his fingers hovering just centimetres from the canvas as if he wanted to touch them, but didn't want to spoil the pieces. His own eyes drifted back to his work, remembering every brushstroke, every scratch.

"Everyone wants force some idea onto artists, what they were, what they meant, but I don't think Wilde or Baldwin or Woolf would give a damn about how they're remembered. They cared about what they created. And even if they did, even if oblivion scared them… dead poets don't care."

When he looked back at Remus, those amber eyes were already fixed on him.

And Remus kissed him.

Hands caught his face, rough and urgent, and the kiss came fast, desperate, full of want. Sirius could feel it—in the way those big hands gripped his face, holding him like he might disappear if he let go. And Sirius burned in the very same second, grabbing Remus and pulling him in hard.

The two of them crashed against his painting, mouths meeting in something messy, fierce, unstoppable.

Sirius threw his head back, feeling Remus' lips drag hot and hungry down his jaw and neck. Teeth scraping against his skin, tongue tracing over the pulse in his throat. He lifted one leg, hooking it around Remus' waist, pulling him in even closer. His fingers found his head and buried deep in the hair, tugging and gripping, a low groan escaping him as his cock pressed against Remus'.

Remus' own groan came rough and quiet, his mouth open, breathing against Sirius', their noses bumping, smashed together in the mess of it all.  He rolled his hips against Remus again, and a hand clamped around his throat—Remus dragged him by the throat and turned him, both of them stumbling until they knocked over his Da Vinci painting, the crash not stopping them, not with Remus' cock now pressed up against Sirius' arse.

Hips started to move against him like he was fucking him, Sirius' head tipping back onto Remus' shoulder, kissing him sloppy and breathless, pushing back against him.

"You are fantastic, Sirius," Remus whispered against his mouth. "For fuck's sake. I fucking lo—"

—and then, sharp and sudden, a voice from outside, "Oi! Who's in there? This studio's supposed to be locked after hours!"

They pulled apart at once, scrambling to straighten themselves out before Filch, the caretaker, inevitably barged in.

Remus glanced at Sirius, breathless, his heart hammering as the footsteps drew closer down the corridor. And then he kissed him once more—quick, desperate—just before the door swung open.

APRIL

"Come here. You look like you need a cwtch."

Sirius pressed against him, wrapping his arms around and burying his face in Remus' neck. "Cwtch," he repeated with a chuckle. "Aren't you the Welshest boy in the village?" he joked.

"Oh, you're such a dickhead, you are," Remus replied, pushing him away.

"What? I thought you wanted to give me a cuddle," Sirius said, pulling him back, tightening his grip on his arms.

"You show up in the middle of the night—"

"It's Friday night. Only Mrs. Figg's old cats, and you have called it a night."

"—and I see you're upset and decide to start taking the piss at me."

"I'm just saying," Sirius grinned, standing on tiptoes and slipping his arms around Remus' neck. "Cariad," he whispered against his lip before kissing him.

Remus pulled him inside the flat and tried to shut the door behind them, just in case one of Mrs Figg's cats that might be awake tried to sneak back in, but Sirius stopped the door with a boot on the frame, preventing it from closing.

"You don't want to come in?"

"Actually, I want you to come with me," Sirius said.

"How is your knee today? Reckon you can manage a long walk?" 

"Aye, Sirius, I can take a long walk with you, but—at one in the morning?"

"Yeah. Will you follow me?"

Remus followed him.

He followed him through the quiet streets, their footsteps echoing softly in the night, until they reached Regent's Park Road. The area was calm at this hour, the usual hum of the city a little softened, streetlamps casting long golden pools across the pavements. They carried on walking, cutting through the stillness, until they reached the entrance.

They walked in comfortable silence, shoes crunching softly on the path as they climbed Primrose Hill. They sat down close together, Remus' cardigan brushing against Sirius' leather jacket, their shoulders touching.

Below them, London stretched out like a sea of lights. The skyline glowed quietly in the night — the BT Tower blinking in violet and blue, the distant arc of the London Eye glowing red, and the Shard standing tall and sharp against the dark sky. Street lamps dotted the park below, casting golden pools of light where a few late wanderers still sat on the grass, and distant voices carried faintly on the breeze.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

"Talk to me, cariad. What's on your mind, eh?"

"When I met you, your accent was softer, did you know that?" Sirius interrupted. Remus opened his mouth, wanting to go back to the subject he knew Sirius was avoiding. "Oh, I could tell of course, this Welsh accent of yours… fucking charming," Sirius said, more to himself than to Remus. "But not as strong."

Remus blushed slightly. "Well, you bring it out of me, don't you?" he said. "I teach students from all sorts… different countries, and some whose first language isn't English, see. And I'd just soften my words a bit, I would. Still do in class, mind. Got used to it here in London." He gave Sirius a sideways smile. "And then you showed up, didn't you, making me tell you to fuck off in a library, following me to my favourite pub. There's no hiding anythin' from you, Black."

Sirius sat with his legs stretched out and crossed in front of him, arms behind him, propping himself up. He kept his eyes on the London night, and so did Remus.

"No hiding, yeah?"

"No hiding."

"I saw my brother today," Sirius told him. Remus turned away from the London skyline at once to look at him. "He was at James' match with Mulciber, can you believe it? And… he is just like you told me. Fucking spotless."

Remus had seen Regulus in class, the one he'd finally come back to after weeks away. He'd called the student into his office and sat him down for a talk, taken his time, watching him as he spoke. Physically, he was fine — no bruises, no cuts, nothing. He was fine, except in his mind. The moment Remus saw him sitting straight-backed in that chair, as if moving a single muscle would hurt too much, he knew. He knew Regulus wasn't fine at all. His body was perfectly fine, and he was there, but his mind and heart weren't.

Remus knew that Sirius was afraid Regulus might be hurt, that his cousins, maybe even his uncle and aunt, might have done something to him. He hadn't said it out loud, but the way he'd asked Remus to check if he was safe told him everything he needed to know.

"I wanted to grab him and take him with me. Like I didn't… like I didn't when we were younger," Sirius went on, and there was a hint of vulnerability in his voice that Remus wasn't sure he'd ever heard before. "When I ran away from home."

"I want to tell you there's no point dwellin' on the past, rememberin' it and torturin' yourself, but… I do it so much sometimes I think I'm a bloody masochist," Remus muttered.

Sirius turned those glassy eyes on him. "I don't dwell on it. I don't relive it. I just… remember," he said. "I remember coming here on that rainy night, with a black eye and a cut on my cheek from my father's family ring. I had no money, nowhere to go, and I just spent the night here."

"That must have been awful."

"Yeah, it actually was. James was in Cornwall with his dad, the Potters are from there, and Peter was off visiting Marlene near Birmingham," he carried on. 

"And you were by yourself."

"I had no one. Just for a moment, I had no one. And then—" Sirius let out a deep sigh. "My uncle Alphard. He lived right on the corner, and he saw me legging it down the street. I walked and ran in the rain for an hour until I got here… and he followed me, with an umbrella and bad ankles," Sirius shook his head, a sad sort of smile flickering. "And suddenly, I had someone."

Remus' heart sank. He placed a hand on Sirius' knee, shifting closer, turning fully towards him, half turning his back to the London skyline. "Your uncle—"

"He knew exactly what I needed. Stayed with me until morning, bought me a ticket to Cornwall, slipped a bit of cash into my hand and told me he loved me," Sirius swallowed hard. "And at the time, I wondered why he didn't ask me to stay. We spoke every day when James and I were in Brazil…he cared so much about how I was getting on… so why didn't he ask me to stay with him?"

"Must've been a pretty good reason, that," Remus murmured.

"Uncle Alphard was dying, had been for some time, and he died that very same summer." His voice caught, thin and fragile, but still no tears came. "Isn't that something?" he whispered, a hollow sort of laugh slipping out. "And just like that, I had no one again. No one by blood. No one in this world who shared my blood and my face… and still wanted me." He let the silence hang between them before breaking it with a bitter smile. "My uncle left me everything. Not to Regulus, not even to my cousin Andromeda. Me. And I found out, afterwards, that the night he helped me… my parents cast him out of the family. Threw him away like they did with me."

"Sirius—" Remus tried.

"How can Regulus go back there? How can he live with them?" Sirius finally let it out. "Even if he has a plan, even if he is coming back, he shouldn't have gone there in the first place, after everything they did to Uncle Alphard, and Andy, and me. Me!"

"Regulus… I feel like he wants to do the right thing. He wants to do it his way," Remus murmured. "He wants to protect you, in his own way."

"He could've run off to Crouch's place, that fucking cunt, to Dorcas, or even some bloody motel in Soho, but he didn't need to—" Sirius almost choked. "I'm just so fucking pissed at him. It made me feel… like he'll always be one of them, and maybe I'll always be one of them too. And that my uncle's little sacrifice to give me safety will mean nothing because I'm just like the rest of them." Sirius went on, and then whispered so quietly that Remus barely heard him, "just like Bella said."

Sirius drew his knees to his chest and rested his forehead against them. Remus moved closer, one leg curling round Sirius' back, the other in front, and pulled him into a proper cwtch.

"None of it makes sense, Sirius," Remus said, wishing he could somehow take the pain Sirius was carrying that night onto himself. "And sometimes it never will, no matter how hard we try. I wish… I wish I could bring your uncle back to you. And your brother."

Sirius lifted his head and silenced him with a kiss. "I've had the best month with you. All the nights, and the mornings, and the moments in between. You made it better," he said.

"I suppose our little bubble's burstin'," Remus murmured, his brow furrowed and his mouth turned down.

"The Battle of Hogwarts is in two days," Sirius said, the dreadful, painful truth hanging between them. "Is it going to be the same afterwards?"

"I really want it to be," Remus said softly, his fingers brushing against the skin of Sirius' cheek. "Will you stay over with me until then?"

"But it's winter in Brazil in July," Regulus told James, clutching his grey long overcoat, when he was vetoed from taking another one.

"Yeah, but you don't need two overcoats, gatinho," James replied.

"The cold there isn't like the cold here," Sirius chimed in, lounging on his brother's bed. "You'll probably get some sunny days even though it's winter. You're going to Rio."

Regulus frowned and then sighed as if they were sentencing him to frostbite, but put his grey overcoat back on the hanger and straightened the black one already packed in his suitcase.

James lay down beside Sirius, who was scrolling on his phone, hands behind his head as they both watched Regulus pacing back and forth, checking if he had everything in his suitcase and whether his passport was already in his carry-on bag.

Regulus' room was… very Regulus, for lack of a better word. Sirius knew his brother had a personality hidden beneath the stiff, robotic manners their parents had drilled into him, but you wouldn't know it from the room. No, the room looked almost exactly the same as when Regulus had first moved into it, months and months ago. Plain walls, dark furniture, no decorations, nothing even slightly out of place.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us?"

Sirius realised James was talking to him and let his phone rest on his chest. "Yeah, not too keen on being around your cock fest," he said.

James laughed, and Regulus let out a noise of disgust. "We're going to James' parents' house. Not an orgy," he said.

Sirius stretched, smirking. "Unfortunately, I've lived in this flat long enough to know that company won't stop you two."

"It's two weeks in Brazil, I'm hardly bringing your brother back pregnant," James said.

Regulus let out another noise. "Can we not talk about sexual habits in front of my brother?"

"Of course, amor," James grinned. "We can talk about getting you pregnant another time, then."

Sirius sat up, deadpan. "Please do. I'd love to miss that conversation by dying first. Though knowing my luck, Regulus would be the one giving the eulogy."

"You're lucky if I even show up to your funeral," Regulus said, hand on his hips, watching them both, the other holding a book as if debating whether to take it with him.

Sirius shot the book a look and rolled his eyes. "Reg, take running shoes. James will definitely want to drag you on a hike. Not Ian McEwan—you won't be analysing Atonement on the trail."

"I don't run. I don't even own running shoes," Regulus said.

"You can take mine, we've got weirdly similar feet," Sirius said.

"You do!" James agreed, surprised. "And you really ought to start exercising, Regulus," he piped up.

"Can't be healthy surviving on depressing mood swings and loafers," Sirius chipped in.

"I bloody do yoga," Regulus snapped as they laughed. "You two love to torment me, don't you?"

"See?" Sirius said, grinning. "You'll be free of me for a few weeks."

Regulus crossed his arms, still standing at the foot of the bed. "You're really not coming with us? I thought you were physically incapable of being away from James for that long."

"Nope," Sirius waved a hand lazily. "Go have fun. You deserve it."

"Oh my God, shut up," Regulus groaned. 

"He is being nice," James laughed.

"And it's fucking disgusting."

"Well, a Sirius holiday-free? How will I survive?" James grinned, then suddenly threw himself onto Sirius, knocking them both sideways, laughing as they wrestled on the bed.

"And… you're not going to Paris either?" Regulus asked, voice lower now, more controlled.

James let go of the playful headlock he had Sirius in, sitting up on the bed to look from Regulus to Sirius, who continued lying down on the bed, unbothered.

"No," Sirius said simply.

Just before going to Brazil for two weeks, Regulus and James were meant to spend a few days in Paris at the family's house there, and visit Walburga and Orion's graves. It was, quite possibly, one of the dullest, most miserable holiday plans Sirius could imagine. In fact, he couldn't imagine anything worse than having to spend his holidays going all the way to Paris to look at some bloody tombstones. No. Thank you very much.

"Did you tell Madam Pomfrey about it?" Regulus asked.

Sirius groaned. "Not this again with the bloody therapist."

"I've been going to fucking therapy once a week for the past month, and you agreed to come too," Regulus said. "I know you've been skipping every week—"

Sirius sat up and waved his hands in the air, putting on a shrill voice: "'Attendance at your mental health appointments is a matter of most importance, Mr Black!'" He sniffed dramatically. "'Self-sabotage may feel like comfort, but it is, in fact, counterproductive.'"

"So funny," Regulus deadpanned. "You're such a laugh."

"How do you know anyway? Isn't it supposed to be confidential?" Sirius shot back, raising an eyebrow.

Regulus just stared. "You just admitted it, you absolute wanker," he said flatly. "Sirius, you're the one who told me I needed therapy."

"Yes.You. Obviously. You came out of the womb needing therapy," Sirius mumbled, turning over on the bed and shoving his face into the pillow. "Doesn't mean I need it," his voice came out muffled by the cotton. 

"Well, Lupin did say you must be loving therapy," Regulus added sarcastically.

"Lupin?" James cut in before Sirius could speak, his head snapping round to face Regulus without even trying to hide it.

Sirius kept his face buried in the pillow. "Lupin?" he echoed.

"Yeah, Lupin. I told him about the therapy, and I think he guessed you were supposed to be going to," Regulus frowned. "Anyway, apparently even my professor could tell, from, what, the four times you've met, that you needed therapy."

The four times Sirius had crossed paths with Remus, in Regulus' head, were: when Sirius barged into his office, when they'd argued outside his Old English Literature I class, when Sirius punched Gilderoy Lockhart and Remus had to break it up, and when Remus had rescued him and let Sirius crash at his flat for a few hours.

Of course, Regulus wasn't counting the frankly obscene number of times his professor had railed Sirius over the past few months

And Sirius could see, from the one eye he had barely lifted from where his face was buried in the pillow, that James was thinking the exact same thing, and if Regulus noticed, that wouldn't end well for either of them.

"Can therapy take a holiday too?" Sirius said, suddenly sitting up.

"I don't think that's quite how therapy works, Sirius," Regulus replied dryly.

Sirius grabbed his brother by the shoulders and grinned. "What about we pick this conversation up after the holidays anyway? I promise."

"You promise?" Regulus murmured, eyes slightly wide, because Sirius never broke a promise.

"Yes. I promise," Sirius repeated, giving his shoulders a squeeze. "Now, the guests will be here any minute. Let's go get absolutely pissed."

Getting absolutely pissed was easy. Knocking back disgusting raspberry vodka shots at his kitchen counter was dead easy. Having a few cigarettes out on the balcony straight after wasn't exactly hard either.

"I'm sorry that you lot suck, that you're all a bunch of losers," Crouch was saying somewhere in the middle of the room. 

Sirius looked at him from outside on the balcony, a cigarette between his fingers. "I'm going to fucking murder him," he muttered to himself.

"Please don't." Sirius turned to find Rosier standing there, his sister beside him. "Regulus will take care of it."

And right on cue, they watched through the glass as Regulus stormed over to a drunken Barty and dragged him off the coffee table.

"I thought my flat was big enough that I could avoid making eye contact with all of you," Sirius muttered to them.

The flat he shared with James, which had been either rented or bought by Fleamont—Sirius honestly wasn't sure. Did they even pay rent? Well, it was a two-storey flat, with three bedrooms upstairs, one of which had been a guest room, now occupied by Regulus. Downstairs, there was a large balcony with two entrances, one from the living room and one from the kitchen, both rooms open-plan, spacious, and currently packed with people laughing, drinking, and dancing to whatever song James was restlessly swapping every two minutes, always convinced he'd found something better to play.

It was an end-of-term party, one last celebration before graduation, before the holidays. Some of them were about to finish uni, like Kingsley,  though it was obvious he'd be starting his master's soon enough, and Frank, who was about to start a junior role supporting the youth justice services in East London, Alice too, and he knew she'd be going back home to help run her family's business: a small chain of independent ice cream shops scattered across a few London neighbourhoods. This meant that the club was going to be changing quite a bit. Sirius didn't know if this was coming at the best possible time or actually at the worst.

It wasn't exactly a party for all the members of the Hogwarts fight club, but Sirius had listened a little bit in therapy and was trying to meet his brother halfway. So, in a rare moment of kindness, he'd told Regulus he could invite his friends. And now he had Crouch and the Rosier twins in his home. His perfect home.

"You look good, Sirius," Pandora said with a grin. "But you really ought to stop smoking, it will rot your lungs, steal your soul and fucking kill you, she added, plucking the cigarette from his fingers and taking a drag herself. 

"Thank you for the advice," Sirius said dryly. "There's nothing I value more in life than your wisdom." 

Pandora laughed, leaning back against the railing, her brother right beside her, like they really were joined at the hip. "You know that hatred you've got for Slytherins," she said, "you really need to let that go. Especially since you can't fuck Barty again." 

"Dora," Evan scolded, rolling his eyes. "Regulus put that topic on the banned list, remember?"

She giggled and took another drag on the cigarette. "I'm joking."

"What she's trying to say is," Evan said, giving Sirius a once-over, "it was decent of you to invite us, considering you hate our guts."

"I've always found you so interesting," Pandora told him, like she was sharing a secret. "If we weren't Slytherins, you'd be my fighter."

"Is your brother really so awful that the only reason you back him is blood loyalty?" Sirius shot back.

"I'm the winner here, Mad Dog," Evan said, stepping in front of his sister. He was taller than Sirius, but nowhere near as intimidating.

"You only won because I wasn't there to beat your sorry arse," Sirius grinned. He plucked the cigarette from Pandora's fingers and took a long drag. "Careful," he barked, smoke curling from his lips. "Always great to see you, Pandora," he told her.

"Great party," Pandora called out as he walked into the flat.

Sirius passed Marlene and Mary, who were knocking on the table in the sitting room, laughing with Hestia Jones and the Bagman brothers. Doris Purkiss was in his kitchen snogging Fabian, the two really just going at it, and honestly, Sirius had always been fairly sure Fabian was gay — which meant James had been right all along, and that was bloody annoying. 

Lily sat on the sofa with Dorcas, the two whispering and sharing kisses, while Amelia Bones sat beside them, furiously tapping at her phone like she was in the middle of a blazing row over text. There were more people dancing and drinking, everyone greeting him as he passed by.

He carried on walking until he reached the stairs. Kingsley had his arm around Emmeline as they chatted with Greta Catchlove. Opposite the stairs was the guest loo, and just before he slammed the door, he spotted Regulus trying to hold back Barty, who looked dangerously close to being sick into the toilet.

Feeling restless, he finished the last of his cigarette, only to nearly bump into James halfway up the stairs.

"Watch it, Potter," Sirius said with a smile. "You're standing right in the way of my dramatic exit."

"I had to use the upstairs loo, someone is throwing up in the one downstairs," James told him, then clocked the cigarette. "No smoking inside," he scolded, wagging a finger at him. His friend snatched the stub from his fingers and stubbed it out with all the self-righteousness of a head boy on a power trip.

"Why the dramatic exit then? Not enjoying yourself? Marlene is a few drinks away from attempting the worm again, I just know it," he laughed. "I mean, what could possibly make Sirius Black run away from a party—" Then James looked at him properly, eyes bright behind his glasses. His smile faded just slightly, head tilted, eyes now sharp and far too knowing.

"Don't."

"Oh. Oh, Sirius… you miss Mr Patches, don't you?" James said softly, voice almost amused, almost teasing. "You've got it bad for him."

Remus. Moony. Loony, Loopy Lupin. Mr Elbow Patches. Now, just Mr Patches.

Yes, Sirius had it bad for him.

"Shut the fuck up," Sirius scolded, trying to get past him as James laughed. His friend grabbed him by the arm and pulled him, Sirius now a few steps above him on the stairs.

"Come to Paris, will you?" he asked, and then smiled. "I bet Mr. Patches would tell you to go."

"Fuck off," Sirius laughed and shoved him past him and up the rest of the stairs.

He immediately pulled his packet of cigarettes from his front pocket and his lighter from his back pocket. Striking the lighter with a flick of his thumb, he lit a cigarette then and there in the hallway. He took a deep drag, feeling that warm, soothing buzz spreading through his chest. The bitterness of the tobacco lingered on his tongue as he exhaled slowly.

He grabbed his phone and dialled Remus, who answered almost immediately, "If there's anythin' illegal going on, please don't tell me, yeah?"

"There's always something questionable going on when I'm around," Sirius joked.

He reached for his bedroom door handle, but it stuck. He gave it a shove, and it creaked open and— Peter fucking Pettigrew, hand shoved right down Sybill Trelawney's knickers.

"What the fuck? Peter, what the actual fuck?!"

"Sirius!" Peter shouted, panic rising in his voice. "It's not what it looks like!"

"Mr Patches, I will call you in a minute." Sirius hung up. "Put your cock away!"

Because there, in the dim light spilling from his room, stood Peter, caught, shamelessly wrapped up with Sybill Trelawney in his bed, his trousers bunched awkwardly around his thighs.

"No, it's not what it looks like," Peter insisted, hurriedly yanking his trousers back up.

Sirius laughed, dragging on his cigarette. "Looks to me like you're cheating on your girlfriend with Trelawney, at my party, in my bed. What exactly does it look like, then?"

"Well, it's, uh… yeah, it's exactly what it looks like," Peter muttered.

Sybill glanced up, a bit startled but oddly serene. "Ah, Sirius, you caught us. I suppose the stars aligned rather unexpectedly."

Sirius blinked, smoke curling up in front of his face. "What the fuck, Peter?" he repeated. "For God's sake, stop pointing your fucking cock at me!" 

"It's in my trousers!" Peter protested. "Look, I don't know what happened! She made a move on me, like, what was I meant to do?"

"I don't know. Not finger-bang Sybill Fortune Fumbler Trelawney in my bed," he said, then paused. "No offence, Sybill."

Sybill was hastily fixing her clothes, her wide eyes peering out from behind her round glasses. "The universe is unravelling, Sirius… and a storm is coming. We're caught in its swirling madness." Then she turned to Peter, adjusting her glasses. "Call me later, Pete."

And with that, she bolted past Sirius, vanishing down the hall.

"That's what gets you going? Does she talk about cosmic dust while wanking you?" Sirius asked.

"Sybill has a vision for the beyond, Sirius," Peter said, straightening his clothes as well.

"Yeah, I bet," Sirius rolled his eyes, taking a drag. "She's always telling people they're cursed, then claiming she's got special herbs to fix it. But I know that shit is just plain old hibiscus. She is a scammer."

"Don't tell anyone, please, mate," Peter said, almost reaching for Sirius' hands, then seemed to think better of it and took a step back. "She said no one would ever find out, so I just kept doing it and—"

"Wait," Sirius chuckled, leaning back lazily against the desk cluttered with a laptop covered in stickers, a few empty energy drink cans, and an ashtray filled to the brim. "Is this, like, a regular thing? You've made a habit of finger-banging—"

"Can we please stop saying finger-banging?" Peter cut in, his expression was somewhere between mortified and pleading.

"Peter," Sirius said, face frozen in mock surprise, a smile plastered on his lips, "are you having an affair at the unmarried age of 22?"

"Please, please, do not tell anyone about this."

Sirius kept smoking as he crossed to the window, pushing it open and blowing the smoke out. "Believe me, I've got no desire whatsoever to discuss what I've just witnessed. That memory is gonna haunt my bed more than you two did."

"You're not gonna say I shouldn't be doing that?"

"I'm not your mum," Sirius replied, gazing out at the street below, voice flat. "And Jorkins isn't my friend, so I don't really give a fuck."

Peter's face flushed red. "Yeah, thank God it was you and not James. He'd give me a whole bloody lecture."

Sirius shrugged — Peter probably wasn't wrong. James would absolutely give him a sermon and make a whole scene about how Peter shouldn't be cheating on his girlfriend… but honestly, he wouldn't tell Jorkins either.

"I don't know, mate. Maybe don't cheat on your girlfriend with the fucking door unlocked."

"I couldn't find your key," Peter muttered. "Tried shoving your uni bag against the door, but it was empty."

"You really ought to be careful, though," Sirius said, already sounding bored. "Jorkins and Trelawney are around each other all the time. Aren't they friends?"

Peter should be more careful. He was dating someone from the club and shagging someone from very same club, and if that was not already asking for disaster, the two girls happened to hold important roles in it.  Jorkins was the Treasurer, so she basically handled every penny that came in and out of the fight club. And Trelawney was literally the Vice-Chair, second in command after Peter. And it was still beyond Sirius how on earth they had let her end up in that role. But somehow, there she was, helping to organise the matches, overseeing the committee meetings, and holding just enough power to make Peter's life very, very difficult if she fancied it—or at the very least, extremely irritating.

"I know," Peter sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I should stop. I love Bertha, I do, I really do. I should stop, shouldn't I?"

"I mean," Sirius laughed, "I genuinely didn't think you had it in you. Honestly thought you were a bit of a pussy, not going to lie."

"Hilarious."

"No, really, I didn't know you had it in you," Sirius said again, with a shrug.

Peter perked up a little, almost a bit proud. "Cheers. High praise coming from the bloke whose biggest commitment is to his nicotine addiction."

Sirius smirked. "You're getting really close to a personality, Wormy."

"Has anyone ever told you how bloody funny you are?" 

"Yeah, all the time," Sirius stated, "that's what they all say, 'Sirius Black—the funniest bloke in the room, the very incarnation of hilarity.' Honestly, I'm practically a walking comedy show. Isn't that just divine?"

"Sometimes, I wonder what would happen if I threw you under a bus."

"I don't know, I'd say follow your heart, Wormy, but clearly your heart's got the moral compass of Jude Law when the nanny is in the room. Poor Bertha, bless her, thinking you're the love of her life."

"It's not like I'm the worst person alive," Peter said, looking genuinely conflicted.

Sirius gave him a look. "I mean, you are alive at the same time as Barty Crouch Jr., so that would be very difficult."

Peter let out a little laugh. "Yeah, bit hard to top that cunt." 

"Peter." 

"Yeah?" 

"Are you still hard?" 

"Shit. Fuck. I'm sorry." 

"Get the fuck out of my room, you pervert." 

Peter was already halfway to the door when he turned back around. "Oh, I needed to talk to you." 

"I don't want to hear anything about Trelawney." 

"No, actually, it's about that thing you asked me a while ago," Peter said. "About that Greyback lad." 

"Greyback?" Sirius asked, straightening up. He stubbed out his cigarette against the doorframe and left the butt there without a second thought. 

"Yeah. You asked me if I knew anything about him," Peter said. "A few months back, well, I did a bit of digging, asked around, and I'm pretty sure this Greyback you asked me about is Fenrir Greyback."

Greyback. The man Professor Snape had mentioned — no first name, no nothing. Sirius had asked Peter about him the day he'd got the shit kicked out of him by Dolohov, and then never thought about it again. Never bothered to look it up, never searched anything online, nothing.

"What did you find out?"

"There's barely anything online, which is pretty bloody impressive, considering this Greyback was involved in some pretty fucked-up stuff back in 2013. He was part of the club, but… he was using fighters to do jobs for him, both outside Hogwarts and inside. I don't know the full extent of it, but he was basically running the whole thing," Peter said, sounding almost excited.

"And then?"

"He got done for drug trafficking. He had a whole gang behind him," Peter explained.

"And how the hell does a student at one of the biggest universities in the country get arrested for drug trafficking and not make every single headline?" Sirius pressed.

Peter grinned. "Exactly. But why did you want to know about him, anyway? Not like we know anyone caught up with that time."

Oh, perhaps Loony's with Greyback…actually, after last time, I highly doubt it.

Snape's words hammered at the back of his mind. But Sirius smiled. "Yeah."

APRIL

"You sad bastard," Benjy said, shaking his head, "fuck you."

"Alright," Remus said to his friend.

"I say, 'Remus, shall we go see that film we talked about?' And you go, 'Sorry, I'm with the student I'm shagging.' Then I say, 'Remus, it's Monday, shall we grab a coffee?' And you say, 'Can't, I'm waking up next to the student I'm shagging,'" Benjy said, deadpan. "Remus, oh, you finally call me and… yeah, I've got weed."

Remus chuckled softly, his fingers deftly folding the thin paper over the crumbled weed, carefully tucking the edges before pressing them down with practised precision. With a final pinch and a slow twist at the end, he sealed the spliff. 

"I don't think I actually call him 'the student I'm shaggin' now, do I?" 

"Yeah, you say, 'I'm with Dorian.' You absolute cliché of a literary bastard." 

Remus laughed and lowered his head towards the hob, where the flame flickered steadily beneath the burner. With the spliff between his lips, he lit it and took a slow drag.

"Anything exciting happenin' to you?" Remus asked, leaning back against the kitchen counter.

Benjy took the spliff from his fingers, exhaling a thin stream of smoke before answering. "Remember Charity Burbage?" he asked, about a girl they'd studied with.

"Oh, aye. Didn't she used to go out with Snape, back in the day?"

"I ran into her one of the many times you couldn't be arsed to come to the Leaky Cauldron this month, and we're going out," Benjy gave a crooked smile.

Remus huffed a laugh through his nose, snatching the spliff back from Benjy before the other could stop him. "So you weren't completely miserable without me, then."

Benjy shot him a mock glare. "Oi, give that back. I need it more than you — I've got a date tonight."

"Too bad," Remus said, taking a slow drag, grinning as he held the spliff just out of reach.

Benjy lunged for it without warning, sending them both stumbling into a half-hearted scuffle against the counter, elbows banging into cupboards, laughter spilling into the smoke-hazed kitchen air.

"I knew you'd turn out to be a bloody stoner, Lupin."

They both froze and turned. Sirius stood in the doorway, leaning lazily against the frame, a big, gangly ginger cat sprawled across his arms like it owned the place.

"I thought you were asleep," Remus said, straightening up, not missing the way Sirius' gaze lingered for a moment too long on where Remus' hands still rested on Benjy's shoulders.

"Woke up with Crookshanks trying to get under the covers," he said, the cat on his lap. "You left the patio door open again."

Well, that was awkward. There was, in fact, a student standing in his kitchen wearing nothing but pyjama trousers, looking far too comfortable for someone who wasn't supposed to be there in the first place, while Remus had a spliff between his lips and his hands on another man's shoulder.

Benjy managed to catch the spliff from him. "Well, I've got to go, busy morning and all."

"Leaving already…" Sirius pouted, "…Benjamin, is it?"

Benjy rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress a small smile. "Benjy," his friend corrected. "I teach Independent Artist Practices in the 21st Century, the class that isn't mandatory that you dropped out of halfway through?"

"Professor Benedict," Sirius smiled. "Sure."

"Sirius, stop being a dick," Remus said. "Benjy, see you this week."

He'd called Benjy that morning to see if he had any weed left, and Benjy said he had some things to do nearby and would stop by his flat, but he couldn't stay long.

"Well, Mr Black, I hope one day to see you not covered in blood or half-naked," Benjy said, then turned to Remus. "When you decided to fancy a student, you just had to pick the one who looks like he might punch anyone at any moment, didn't you?"

"Benjy, get out," Remus said, his face burning with embarrassment.

Sirius watched quietly as Benjy handed the spliff back to Remus with a cheeky grin and then sauntered past them, chuckling softly. The wooden floor creaked beneath Benjy's feet as he made his way to the door, which slammed shut with a definitive bang behind him, echoing through the otherwise still apartment.

Remus' gaze flickered to Sirius, whose expression was quiet, almost brooding. The faint haze of smoke curled lazily around their heads as he absently fiddled with the spliff between his fingers.

"Want to go back to bed?" Remus asked gently.

Sirius didn't respond. Without a word, he grabbed his spliff,  turned and strode through the living room. His footsteps were soft on the as he moved down the narrow hallway and disappeared into the bedroom, the door open behind him.

Smiling, Remus followed him, finding him lying completely naked among the tangled sheets, smoking the joint.

"Benjy," Sirius said at last, and Remus fought back a smile, pulling off his pyjamas and slipping into bed beside him. "He seems fun," Sirius added, and Remus could tell straight away that, for once, he meant it.

"He gets great weed," Remus said simply, as Sirius placed the spliff between his lips before taking it back for himself.

"He does," Sirius agreed.

"Today, huh?" Remus said quietly, as the room fell silent again. Before, there had never been silence between them as it was always filled with talk or laughter, or mouths pressed together in something far less complicated. But now, the weight of the night settled over them.

The very last day of April, the day of the Battle of Hogwarts, and they could both feel it—something was different, even if just for tonight, even if tomorrow everything might feel normal again. The tension in Sirius was sharp, almost humming beneath his skin.

Sirius didn't answer him. He just pulled Remus in, and Remus rested his head on his shoulder. They lay there in quiet stillness, the spliff glowing faintly as they passed it between them, smoke curling lazily upwards and disappearing into the pale morning light. 

It was a chilly Sunday morning, the 30th of April, and through the gap in the curtains a weak spring sun filtered in, its light softened by thin grey clouds. Outside, the city was muted, the streets still damp from last night's rain, and the air carried that sharp, fresh scent of early spring. There was still time yet, but it already felt as though summer was just around the corner.

"Tell me something about yourself," Remus asked. "Something you've never told anyone."

He studied Sirius' face as he thought. The pale skin still mottled with bruises, a small scar forming on his mouth, black curls falling messily across his eyes. Remus could see it in his expression when something clicked, and then a beautiful, wide smile broke across his face.

"I wish I had met Princess Diana. Because, honestly, I think we would have understood each other on a deep personal level," Sirius said. "I truly believe, if Princess Diana had met me, we'd have been great friends."

Remus opened his mouth, then closed it again, pressing his lips together. "You know what? I don't think you're wrong."

Sirius beamed at him. "Your turn. Something properly random you've thought about."

"Alright, well… sometimes I think about hair transplants, and it worries me," Remus admitted. "Because what will happen to human diversity if everyone gets one?"

Sirius burst out laughing. "What if you need it in the future?"

"I'd rather be fucking bald," Remus laughed along, the spliff nearly finished. 

They laughed together, almost writhing, laughing so hard at something that might not have been so funny at another time, but right then was the funniest thing they had ever heard.

Sirius chuckled softly and slid onto Remus' lap, straddling him with ease. The tiny spliff hung between his lips as he took a slow, deep drag until it burned low, then flicked the butt into the ashtray with a practised flick. 

Without breaking eye contact, Sirius leaned forward and pressed his mouth to Remus', parting his lips to share the kiss. The warm, sweet smoke slipped sensuously between their tongues, swirling as Remus drew it in, letting it fill him before he exhaled softly against Sirius' skin.

Sirius straightened, his hands resting on Remus' chest as he shifted his hips until his arse was perfectly aligned with Remus' cock. His mouth parted in a small smile, a soft breath escaping, and he looked down at Remus.

They didn't need to say a word, it was natural, the way Sirius' hips began to move slowly in circles, his hands gliding over Remus' chest.

Remus' large hands gripped Sirius' arse, pulling him closer. He didn't take his eyes off him as he reached for the lube on the bedside table and quickly brought it back to the bed. The smooth, jelly-like lube on his fingertips spread as he began to touch Sirius' tight entrance. Using one finger, he eased the opening, already more accommodating, used to Remus' fingers after so many times. He continued until three fingers were sliding lightly in and out, Sirius' hips following the rhythm, the small moans he let out growing louder. 

Suddenly, Sirius grabbed Remus' hand and pressed it against the pillow on the top of his head. Remus watched as Sirius, with his free hand, took hold of his hard, throbbing cock and guided it inside.

When Sirius was fully seated inside him, all the way, they both moaned in unison. The hairs along his arms stood on end, and his toes curled. His hands flexed, his wrists firmly held by Sirius', and he couldn't take it anymore. Remus grasped Sirius by the throat and pulled him close, capturing his mouth in a fervent kiss.

Planting both feet firmly on the mattress, he began to thrust upwards, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the quiet room. Sirius cried out, his grip tightening around Remus as they moved together in a desperate rhythm.

He continued to fuck Sirius relentlessly, their mouths pressed together in a messy, breathy kiss. His fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of Sirius' neck, holding him there as Sirius moaned loudly, clutching his chest, arms trembling, face hidden, he grabbed any part of Remus he could get his hands on, his grip so tight it would leave as many marks as his fingernails.

They kissed fiercely as Remus lifted his hips, and Sirius sank down with him, the hard slap of his arse against Remus' skin deliciously loud. Sirius' erect cock pressed and kneaded between them, heightening every pulse and shudder.

And then Sirius cried out, placing both hands on Remus' chest, holding him there, stopping all movement. 

Remus, breathing heavily, gripped his hips; the two of them clutching each other, so close, almost there, almost. 

It was taunting, almost maddening — exactly the way Sirius liked to tease him. Bringing him right to the edge, only to stop everything at once. 

Sirius, his hair wild and his mouth flushed red, drew a deep breath and began to move again, rolling his hips, slowly, achingly slowly, as if he meant to kill him, and perhaps that was exactly what he wanted.

But Remus let him, because if he was going to die like this, he would die pretty fucking happy.