Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1 – Sirius Black’s POV

Sitting the interviews for Balliol had seemed ­– truthfully – hilarious to Sirius. He knew that he could piss himself in that very mahogany-themed room, light a cigarette, proclaim his undying love for anal sex and Satan, and he’d still get into his pick of colleges at Oxford University. It didn’t matter what he said or did. His endless and illustrious heritage had awarded him with an ability to move through the world without ever having to care. He did not need to care about people, or places, or things. Sirius Black did not need to care, but he found that he did. His curse!

He’d moved himself into his dorm. He’d brought his posters, books, four packs of Newports, his entire wardrobe, and a thick red duvet. He’d bought a toothbrush and toothpaste from the local student shop. The one from home had always tasted a little bit like black mold. Or mildew. Regardless, everything that was going to touch his body, besides his clothes, was fresh out of packaging.

Sirius liked it that way. He liked his tattoos, and his piercings, and everything that could possibly separate himself from his skin – moreso, what was underneath it. And even though his dorm smelled like someone else’s feet, old-familiar mildew, and shitty wood varnish, there was something else lingering in the air: the tiniest hint of freedom.

Locking the door behind him, Sirius walked, artfully dodged packing crates and lamps, cardboard boxes lining the hallway. A couple doors down from his own, loud voices spilled out.

“Fuck OFF, Potter! I am not getting shitfaced in a pub. At two pm. On a Wednesday.”

“Peter,” a posh voice whined. “Please, I’ll pay! I don’t want to get sloshed; I just want to explore. And maybe enjoy a pint.”

As Sirius moved past, they paused arguing to wave and share a friendly smile. Delighted, Sirius gave one back.

Sirius kept grinning to himself as he moved along. Seems like all the freshers were on a similar routine. It had been Sirius’s plan to migrate out of the dorm buildings and into the streets of Oxford, meander into a pub and enjoy something to eat. He was beginning to feel that itch, having seen those two boys playfighting, bantering…He needed to meet people.

Leaving through the Porters’ Lodge, he entered the main street. It was quieter than he hoped for. Already, little packs of students were studying. Literally studying. He felt his mood slipping down and hunted for a loose cigarette in his jacket pocket. Though he looked like Education Material, his outfit was undeniably Sirius. Stupidly tight black pants and The Killers shirt, bomber jacket and Lennon-esque sunglasses. Not the kind of look that says: “I can’t wait to study English.” He passed bookstore after bookstore, café after café, and that itch threatened to overtake him. He was bored, and when Sirius Black was bored, he did less than honorable things.

Like a beacon of hope, a sign appeared before him. The Kings Arms. Hurrah for student culture. Tucking his sunnies into his curly black hair, he opened the pub doors. Immediately, the stench of lager hit him with full force. The place was jampacked. It seemed like although some of the kids were out studying, most of the student body was in here.

Going up to the bar, Sirius ordered himself a Pilsner. Sure, a fruity fucking beer, but it was weirdly warm out for October. He looked about for a place to perch, preferably by some interesting sorts with whom he could chat, charm, maybe sleep with. Truly, he was up for anything.

He spotted two familiar faces. It seems “Potter” had won, as him and the other boy were sat in the dingey corner by the window enjoying two dark-tinted pints. The window might as well have been a brick wall; it was coated in grime and beer and was letting in absolutely no light. They must have sensed him watching, as they waved at him. Then they waved again, and Sirius waved back. Then they waved a third time, and Sirius got the hint. Right.

“Hello, lads.” He grinned.

“Hiya! Name’s James.” The stupid rhyme and name seemed to complete the sunny face looking at Sirius. He had bright green eyes, messy black hair, and his face was covered in freckles. Something clicked in Sirius.

“I’m Peter, it’s so nice to meet you!” The blond beside James piped in, blue eyes glittering even in the dark pub. He had the kind of face that made you want to pinch his cheeks, baby fat still clinging on.

“I’m Sirius, mind if I sit with you?”

“Oh, we didn’t think you were joking! Take a seat, mate.” Peter spoke with such sincerity.

“No, my name is Sirius.” James howled from behind his pint.

“Of course it is, and we are Sirius-ly offering you a seat, man.” Despite himself, Sirius started to laugh. It was an old joke, but somehow Peter’s stoicism and James’s drunken delight were getting to him. He sat down, grinning ear to ear.

Almost straight away, the banter began to flow through them all. They were all steadily growing off their face, and Sirius felt the itch disappearing. He had a sneaky feeling it might never come back.

“Oh God, and then – oh, you won’t beliiieve it – the kid wipes his glasses, and more grease gets on them.” James squawked in pure joy.

“Fuckin’, oh god. He’s,” Peter grabbed Sirius by the should and goes so serious again, “called Severus.”

This did it for Sirius. He doubled over, laughing so hard that a bit of beer rolls from his lips and up his nose.

James slammed his pint down. “That is what you get! You don’t not hold the door for beautiful red-headed women! I dub him Snivellus!”

Peter lost it next, his eyes a bright red from the force of his cackles. Another hour passed by, and soon Sirius, James and Peter were tottering back to Balliol.

James stumbled into his barren dorm room; items and clothes, even bedding, still packed. Peter took James’s glasses off his face as he passed out on his bed. Sirius and Peter carefully shut the door, and Peter crept into his room next door.

“Night, Sirius!” His face beamed at Sirius.

“Night, Peter.” Sirius smiled back.

Slipping off his pants, Sirius crawled into his bed. He’d unpack tomorrow. For now, nothing really mattered but sleep. Because he was tired, and because tomorrow he’d see his friends again.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2 – Remus Lupin’s POV

Remus Lupin fought with tooth and nail to get into Balliol. Every single day since he was 14 had been dedicated to this very place. And now that he was standing in the door of his very own dorm, it all felt so…lackluster. Maybe it was moving in a day later than most of the other First Years ­– he’d informed one of the many Fellows at Balliol that his mum had needed his assistance for an extra day. It was true, she had. And yet, with this one slip up, he’d already separated himself from the other students. He tried to shake the feeling off, but it persevered. He furrowed his brow and pulled his sweater tighter.

He hadn’t brought much. When Tad died, him and Ma moved away. Quietly, like water running down windowpanes. The Lupin family seemed to slip through the cracks, and into the grass of backdrop Wales. With that came selling or donating everything that wasn’t essential. So, Remus did. He kept his books – Mam’s books – and his sweaters – which had been Tad’s – and a beaten up Go board. Beyond this little eccentricities and oddball collections, Remus sold it all.

Standing in his dorm, he regretted it slightly. Nothing to decorate his walls, besides a few pictures. He reckoned he could print out paintings, tape them to the wall. The thought made him embarrassed. No, he’d get a part-time job and he’d decorate his walls himself.

At the thought of decorating his walls, the lackluster feeling faded – thank God. Remus felt eager, and then a strange sense of relief. He’d done it. Six years later…he’d done it.

Before Tad had died, he’d sat his son day and told him “what was what.”

“You’re a smart boy, Remus. A very bright boy. No matter what you do with these,” he touched Remus’s hands. “I want you to do what your Taid said I couldn’t. Go so far from here, Remus. Get out and do not look back. You are not me.”

The next morning, Tad had shot himself in the backyard by the tulips.

Remus pinned the picture of Tad, Ma and himself at the traveling fair on his wall above the bed.

He left his dorm room, jiggling the doorknob after closing it to ensure it was locked. His long legs knocked over someone’s move-in box, and then another.

“Shite. Sorry!” he called behind him, hoping he didn’t break anything.

“S’aright!” someone called back.

Remus managed to get out of the dorm building, and wound up stood by the grass, staring at the spires all around him. Remus spotted black hair, nose deep in a book – a fresher sat under a tree looking focused. A good first friend, Remus thought to himself.

“Hi there, I’m Remus.” he said, outstretching his less-scarred hand.

“And I’m busy, so shove off and find someone else to talk to.” The voice was nasal, and evidently trying to sound rich. But Remus grew up around slummers, and knew one when he heard one. The face didn’t appear from behind Hegel’s Theories.

Remus straightened himself back up.

“Er, right. Enjoy Hegel.”

What an actual git. Remus hurried past the trees, spotting numerous more kids alike to that one. All dressed in black turtlenecks, noses in books of varying German philosophers.  He knew bigots when he saw them, and that lad was well on his way. Moseying about the rooms under the dining hall, Remus heard piano to his left. He turned to follow it, going through what looked like an old kitchen, a laundry room, and then…

A broom closet. Okay. He turned around and saw there was another door hiding from him, and he opened it. It was another storage-y room, a bit bigger than the last, with a shitty upright piano against the far wall.

There sat a girl, with long red hair, and a green jumper on, head bent down and fixated on the keys in front of her. The music was…not amazing. It sounded like Debussy, but truthfully it left something to be desired. But it was charmingly naïve – it was played with the pure desire to play. Remus stood there in the doorway listening to her hit wrong notes and mutter curse words, start from the beginning, and repeat the process.   His stomach growled, and he was reminded that it’s lunch and he hasn’t eaten anything at all. Carefully, he turned around only for a long limb to knock a broom. It careened into the floor and the girl playing piano leapt out of her skin.

“FUCK’s sake. Fuck’s sake. I am so sorry, I did not mean to frighten you. Seriously. I was actually just – I heard your playing! And it was really pretty, and I just … I was looking for the sound and I got lost down here, and I really just.”

Remus stopped talking when he noticed the redhead was making a strange wheezing sound. It turned out to be laughter and Remus was relieved that on his first day of uni and third year of practicing pacifism, he hadn’t killed an unarmed and alone girl.

“Holy shit. My name is Lily. You’re alright, mate. I’d heard there was some piano on campus, and I sincerely doubt they meant this one.” Lily gestured around the room, and Remus laughed.

“No, what are you talking about? This room is screaming England’s Oldest Uni, and you know it.”

Lily clapped her hands while she laughed. “Brilliant, you’re so right!” She stood up from the piano and walked over to him. “What’s your name?”

“Remus. Remus Lupin.” He gladly shook her hand

“Remus and Romulus! Do you have a brother?”

“Not, er, that I know of…?” Remus smiled awkwardly. The two kept chatting, and eventually found their way out of the near-catacombs of Balliol, riffing and joking about wolves, and piano, and whatever came their way. Having found sunlight at last, they walked across the grounds, careful not to trod on the grass. The Fellows had been veryclear about not ever standing on the grass.

Walking past the tree outside of Remus’s dorm, Lily went stock still.

“YOU. You there, hiding behind Hegel. Get out.” she pointed at a familiar greasy mop og black hair. Remus didn’t move.

“Not now, Evans. I am very busy.”

“Severus, I’m not asking…Come on! You can’t avoid your best friend forever, can you? I know I ran off at breakfast, but I wanted to find that piano.”

The black hair lowers its book, and peers out. Glasses covered in grease, and unfortunate acne scars appeared. Despite his awful look, the boy seemed to be peering down his nose at both of them. But Remus thought he saw a light twinkle when he saw Lily.

He stood up and gave her an embrace, and Remus thought there was a light blush on his sallow, milk-ish skin. Remus clears his throat, and Severus looks up at him.

“Oh, Lame-us.”
“It’s Remus.”

“I’m aware. I was making a joke.”

“Oh, ok.” Remus stared at Severus, and Severus stared back. The air was palpably weird.

“I was trying, so, well. I was trying to be funny, but sometimes people aren’t as smart as me so they don’t –“

“Well, yes, obviously you’re very smart. You’re going to Balliol.”

“Yes, so the likes of you wouldn’t really…Oh. You go here, too.”

Remus pursed his lips. “I’d best be off, Lily. It was an absolute pleasure to meet you.”

“Bye, Remus! Don’t get too lost!” Remus thought Lily reminded him of a little bird, so much energy, bright colors…A delightful critter flittering about. But there was a stark intelligence in her eyes, an edge to her tone that called to mind a hawk. He waved cheerily, and headed towards the Porters’ Lodge. He was looking for a pub.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3  - Remus Lupin’s POV

Moving through the evening streets of Oxford, Remus looked for familiar faces. He found it hard to believe that he should be so entirely alone in this new place. It wasn’t the Remus walking along the streets that had made the choice to go here, it was the Remus who had to roll up his pant legs because they were always too long for him. It was the Remus who wondered if boys could wear makeup because he hated his scars.

The Remus living the life that little Remus had chosen strolled with his hands in his pockets, pants a bit too short for him, scars dulled but holding strong to his face. He admired the cobblestones and reached in his canvas bag for his camera. Positioning himself squarely in the middle of the street, he snapped a pic.

Radcliffe Camera, meet Remus Camera.

Maybe he could work there as an upperclassman, he hoped. Considering it was a science library, he didn’t think he’d spend much time studying there. Peering through the viewfinder, he took another look but didn’t press the button. Film was expensive. He did a slow orbit of the stone where he stood, keeping his amber eye right up to the camera.

That’s when he noticed them. A group of boys outside the Kings Arms seemed to be posing for his camera. Two brunettes doing bunny ears on a blond. They were cackling and trying hard to stay very still for Remus. Do I know them? He didn’t think so. As he had previously come to terms with, he probably didn’t know a soul in this entire city.

Intrigued, Remus lowered his camera and walked over to the table where the gaggle sat. Very quickly, they all dropped their poses and went back to their pints. The blond one kept pointing at him, and frantically shushing them all.

“Hi,” Remus stated. He stood staring, unsure of himself. These guys were clearly full of themselves.

“Hi yourself,” one of the brunettes retorted. Remus took a good long look at him.

He had one leg up on the bench, the other below the table. He had an impish quality about him, with his cigarette dangled impossibly still from his slightly open mouth. He had on a red tank top and tight black pants. His eyes were green and glittering with deceit or mischief or some combination. And he was watching Remus’s every move.

“Would you guys like me to take your picture? I have plenty of film,” lie. “And I wouldn’t mind.” Lie. These guys were dicks, as made evident by the cig-smoking cool-boy.

“Nah. We were just messing weren’t we, Sirius?” the other brunette said. This boy had a tinge of boyish charm hanging around him, like he couldn’t really do any wrong. He pushed his glasses up his nose.

The blond stretched his hand across the table.

“My name is Peter. That’s James,” he gestured to the one in glasses, “and that’s Sirius,” adding a name to cool-boy. “It’s nice to meet you, they really are just playing around. I’m sorry if we ruined your pictures.”

“No, it’s alright,” Remus looked at his camera. “I was just trying to get my aperture and settings right, I guess.” He took Peter’s hand and shook it.

“Why don’t you join us? We’re trying to build a small union of English Department students.”

Remus raised his eyebrow as he sat down next to Peter.

“How did you know I was an English student?”

The brunette – Sirius – scoffed lightly. “Oh, our mistake. It’s just, something about your canvas book bag said you were decidedly not off to Bodleian for aeronautical studies.”

Cars and bikes sped past them, and Remus steadied himself on the seat.

“So, Balliol? The lot of us?” he asked, nodding to punctuate his question.

“Yes, you don’t remember me?” Sirius said. “You knocked down my box in the hallway just this morning. Potter and Pettigrew are just down the hall from us. One might say we’re Monica, Ross, Chandler and whatever another one of those American prats are called.”

“We’re not living together, though.” Peter noted.

“Quite right, Peter. An astute observation, because if we were then I would have to listen to Fleetwood Mac before bed, in some bizarre profession of love to Stevie Nicks.” James replied, giving Peter a quizzical look and almost reverent bow of his head.

Peter turned bright red.

“I just think they’re a good band! Anyone with half a brain and even less of a penis would want to snog Stevie from 1977.”

Remus chimed in. “Rumours is a very good album actually. I have to take Peter’s side with this. Though, I'll pass on snogging Miss Nicks.”

Sirius groaned. “I am begging you, Mister,” he stopped. “Actually, what is your name?”

Remus looked at him blankly. “You don’t remember me?”

Sirius and James exchanged a worried glance.

“Shit, no. Did we meet on the train? Or at…the, er,” Sirius’s voice fizzled out and James’s cut in. “The, er. Dinner? The dinner…”

Remus couldn’t hold back his laughter any longer. “No, no. We haven’t met. I’m Remus, nice to meet all you lads.”

The joke relieved the three of them, and Remus could tell that his banter meshed well. It was a relief to be around like-minded people, even if James and Sirius were stupendously posh. Peter, on the other hand, seemed a bit more like Remus. Rough around the edges and trying hard to soften them back out. Conversation drifted from classes to various M25 opinions, to people they’d met on campus.

“I don’t know many people yet, but I ran into a nice girl named Lily.”

“Hot, is she?” Sirius asked, his third cigarette in his hands.

“I mean…sure.” Remus had thought she was very pretty. “I don’t tend to go for gingers, though.”

“Fuck,” groaned James. “I saw the prettiest ginger around here a bit ago. And this monstrous git let the door close on her.”

“Oh, and Remus, he truly has the most horrific name, it’s–” Remus cut Peter off, excitedly.

“It can’t be worse than Severus. I met him today. You think that rando was a git, you haven’t seen SHIT compared to this one.”

“That’s his name! That’s his name. Severus.”

“Holy shit. He’s a bastard, he’s a demon.” James sounded delighted to have another slight against Severus. “Between the four of us, we call him Snivellus.”

Remus cackled. “Yeah, no. He really was awful. I think he’s a philosophy student, or something.”

Sirius ran his hands through his hair. “You’d think they’d be better people. Consuming books that are a basic “How To” on human decency.”

James gave him a shove. “Yeah, Mister Black, tell us alllll about human decency. You’re ashing your cigarette all over my chips.”

Sirius snorted.

“James, you’ve known me for a day. You think this is the peak of my indecency?”

Remus thought he caught Sirius looking at him.