Chapter 3 Sirius’ Perspective Maybe
I am, as usual, staring at Remus. Drinking in the image, but it isn’t enough. It never has been. There are too many damb clothes in the way of what I want, no need, to see and to touch. In all of the years we have known him none of the Marauders have ever seen Remus nude. He undresses when no one is around or awake, for he feels self-conscious of the numerous scars that mark his body as a result of his transformations. I have invariably admired Remus for coping so well with his lycanthropy, thus the scars would entice me, not repulse me.
I watch the delectable werewolf chew on his bottom lip thoughtfully before adding something to his essay. He has no inkling of how sensuous he looks when he does that, which is part of his appeal. If something James or I do is great in any way we realize it and have no qualms about loudly announcing it, but not sweet little Moony.
“He’s sexy, isn’t he?” asks a voice, probably one inside my head.
“Mmm-hmm,” I reply dreamily. Wait, that voice did not sound like the ones that typically converse within my mind, though it’s difficult to tell since there are so many. It sounded almost like…Shit! “I-I mean, um; it’s just that I meant to say, well, you see “ DAMMIT, PRONGS!”
James smirks and sits beside me on the common room settee.
“You son of a hippogriff,” I insult him
He doesn’t appear very insulted. “Son of a hippogriff? I know you can do better than that.”
I sigh. “How long have you known about my…” I struggle to find an appropriate term.
“Hopeless infatuation,” offers James.
I glare.
Unfazed, he continues, “I’ve known since yesterday.”
Ah, of course. I was a bit too obvious during what I call The Incident Before I Played With the Slinky. Catchy, isn’t it?
“But, Padfoot, ‘hopeless infatuation, isn’t the right word for what I found out ‘cause you and Remus are meant to be.”
“How d’you know?”
James fidgets uncomfortably. It’s unambiguous that there is something he wants to tell me, yet feels he would be betraying someone else if he did. “Remus is gay. He didn’t exactly tell me to keep it a secret from the other Marauders, so I guess it’s okay for me to tell you that.”
“He is?” I gasp. I had never seen Remus look at a girl like she was something to eat, however, I assumed he was merely being courteous. I never considered the possibility that what I prayed for could actually be true. “You’re sure?”
“Nah, I’m James.” I whip out my wand and point it at him threateningly, though we both know I won’t use it. Not on him anyway. He smiles, “Yeah, I’m sure. He said it to me himself.”
“All right, but just because he fancies blokes doesn’t mean he fancies me,” I state.
“I have a hunch that he does.”
“A hunch isn’t good enough.”
“If you want to be certain go up to the dorm and get in bed. I’ll tell Moony you’re sick; you know how sympathetic he is, and see what happens.”
“Maybe…”
“No maybes just do it, Sirius. A bit of advice: make the first move. Even people who aren’t as close to Remus as we are can see that he’s shy.”
“Maybe,” I repeat skeptically.
“Trust me.”
“You know I do.”
“Okay.”
“Fine.”
“Good.”
“But, James?”
“What?”
”I don’t think it’s a good idea for Moony and me to leave the common room.”
“Why not?”
“Since everybody in Gryffindor, even Wormtail, used their famous bravery to taste the Tuna Fudge Surprise during dinner and had to go see Madame Pomfrey it’ll leave you and Miss Evans alone. That’s asking for trouble.” I nod towards Lily, who is reading. At least I think she is. Her eyes are staring unfocused at one point on the page, like she’s concentrating on something else. Could she be eavesdropping on us? No. She loathes us. Once she called us promiscuous. When we looked it up and comprehended what the bloody hell she meant we were extremely offended.
James punches my shoulder playfully. “Shut it and go upstairs.”
“All right, I will even though I know leaving you two together is risking the apocalypse.”
He smiles angelically and shrugs. I notice he does not deny it. I am not in the least reassured as I trudge up the boys’ staircase. I glance around the dormitory and am somewhat calmed by the familiarity of it. Remnants of snacks and plans for future Marauding pranks scribbled on scrap pieces of parchment cover the floor and all of the beds are a rumpled mess except for Remus’, which is as neat and perfect as McGonagall’s dresser of knickers.
Yes, I have seen my Transfiguration professor’s drawers full of lingerie. No, you do not want to know the details.
I crawl under my heap of blankets and try to look ill. It is not that difficult; all I need to do is visualise Snivellus and Dumbledore snogging. At this point I would bet almost everything I cherish, including my stuffed toy Elmo, that my face had become green.
Such a hue explains why the expression of concern on Remus’ attractive face when he gaits through the door changes to one of horror.
He set down the bowl he’d been carrying on my bedside table. “Merlin’s elbow! I didn’t think you’d be this sick.”
“Merlin’s elbow?”
“Don’t ask.” Remus gestured to the bowl. “I brought you some ice cream from the kitchen.”
I peer over at it. “It’s vanilla.” It isn’t the best flavour in my opinion, and don’t I deserve the best? Okay, so I don’t actually care what it is since Remus brought it, but if it was anyone else I would be irked.
“I know you prefer strawberry, but they didn’t have any.”
“How about strawberry cough sweets?” I pretend to cough.
“I’ll look.” He goes over to his nightstand and bends over to open the drawer. “We have lemon; no strawberry. Sorry,”
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” I take a deep breath to prepare myself for my next reckless act. I do not believe anyone should live his or her life cautiously because no one gets out alive anyway. “It’s nobody’s fault that I like strawberry ice cream, that I’m coughing, that iloveyou, that I want strawberry cough sweets when we only have lemon-“
“I like lemons.”
“Did you just say something dirty?” I gasp.
“What’s perverted about lemons? They’re a fruit.”
Remus is the most mature Marauder, however, he is also the most innocent. I desperately want to be the one to alter that innocence. “Forget it.”
“It’s forgotten,” informs Remus. “Anyway, what did you say before the cough sweets?”
“I’m coughing,” I casually remind him.
“After that?” When I remain silent Remus continues, “It sounded like you said you love me…do you?”
Summoning up my courage, I look directly into his beautiful eyes. “Yes.”
“Oh.”
I wait for him to say more, but he’s mute. That makes me furious, for even if James is wrong and I have as much chance with Remus as Wormtail does with Trelawney (I can’t for the life of me figure out what he sees in her.) he could at least have the courtesy to elabourate more, especially since he is a particularly articulate individual. “Oh? OH! I confess my love for you, Remus John Lupin, and all you have to say is ‘oh?!”
Remus stiffens. “How did you find out my middle name?”
I pound my fist into the bed with frustration. “That doesn’t matter! What matters is-” I never have the opportunity to enlighten him because his mouth crashes against mine.
“Love you, Padfoot,” he murmurs against my lips.
Waves of joy wash over my facilely aroused body. I get impassioned easily, so what? I kiss back without hesitation. He tastes like chocolate. Why am I unsurprised? My favourite flavour is now chocolate, not strawberry. Hmm, I wonder what changed my mind? A factor that does surprise me is the sheer force of Remus’ kiss. I expected it to be less rough. Not that I’m complaining. It must be the wolf’s instinct of aggression in his subconscious. Regretfully, I release the gorgeous boy and get off of the bed.
“Siri, please,” Remus begs breathlessly.
Melin, I wish we could! “Not yet.”
“Then, why did you-“
“Because I can.”
“Sirius!”
I chuckle at his indignation and antagonise him further, for he is painfully adorable when he is irritated. “I wasn’t sick either. That was just a ploy to get you up here.”
“You’re a horrible person.”
“But you love me anyway,” I state confidently.
“But I love you anyway,” agrees Remus. “Can we finish later?”
“Maybe,” I tease.
He embraces me so that I can feel the length of his entire body against mine. The fingertips he trails up and down my spine are tender, however, the growl he whispers in my ear is pleasantly less than peaceful and compliant. “Don’t torture me, Padfoot. I’ll make you regret it.”
“I look forward to having you punish me,” I grin truthfully.
He pulls away from me. “Good.”
“The next time someone calls you quiet and gentle I’ll tell them to have a snogging session with you,” I laugh.
“Would you let them?”
“Of course not. I’d kill ‘em if they tried. You’re mine and I don’t share what belongs to me.”
Remus smiles warmly. “I’m glad to hear that.”
Slipping an arm around his waist, I say, “Let’s go tell James you’re my bitch.”
“What?! I must’ve heard wrong. You are the bitch.”
We playfully argue all the way down the staircase until what we witness when we arrive in the common room shocks us into silence.