James and Sirius don’t have to study for their OWLS, not really. It all comes naturally to them, every single damn thing, and Remus is not bitter, not really, as he sits in his favorite secluded corner of the library, poring over five years of Potions notes. He’s terrible at Potions, always has been, doesn’t have the eye for measurement like James or the natural charm to get out of extra homework like Sirius, not really.
He turns a page and feels someone behind him. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up and suddenly there are hands over his eyes, hands that smell like dog and sunshine and dark chocolate. He smelled those things coming from a cauldron of Amortentia once and that’s when he knew that he and Sirius weren’t friends, not really.
“Guess who, Moony? Here’s a hint: it’s the sexiest, most awesome, perfect Quidditch player Hogwarts has ever seen.”
“Severus, I’m flattered but you must know, I don’t feel that way about you at all.”
This earns him a flick, but he doesn’t care, not really. “Bloody Snivellus, really, Moony? I’m insulted.” He moves his hands away and flops down in the chair next to Remus.
“Oh please Sirius, you know I’m only joking,” he says, returning to his notes. But there’s a faint smile on his lips that he can’t get rid of.
Sirius scoots his chair in closer and tugs on Remus’s arm. “Stop studying, will you? It’s a beautiful day and no one should be cooped up inside, not even you. Come play with me!”
“Sorry, but I don’t wake up every morning brilliant as you, so I, unfortunately, cannot play with you today.”
He turns another page despite the fact that he has not absorbed a single word of the previous one. It’ll only be a matter of time before he packs up his books anyway, because he can’t say no to Sirius, not really.
And there are suddenly lips at his ear and then down his neck and he tries to protest, tries to tell Sirius to think of the books, the poor books who are getting quite a show but it falls on deaf ears and Remus gives thanks for the day he found this teeny corner of the library. Sirius kisses the way he lives: rough and passionate and full speed ahead and Remus doesn’t think there’s anything better in the world, not really, except maybe for chocolate at the perfect temperature or new books but then Sirius nips at his lower lip and he forgets about all of those other things.
In 1994 he watches fifth years study for OWLS and wonders if he really took his that long ago. He spends every sunny Saturday in his favorite corner of the library and doesn’t think about Sirius and doesn’t love him anymore, not really.
Sirius kisses the way he lives: rough and passionate and full speed ahead and Remus doesn’t think there’s anything better in the world, not really, except maybe for chocolate at the perfect temperature or new books but then Sirius nips at his lower lip and he forgets about all of those other things.
James and Sirius don’t have to study for their OWLS, not really. It all comes naturally to them, every single damn thing, and Remus is not bitter, not really, as he sits in his favorite secluded corner of the library, poring over five years of Potions notes. He’s terrible at Potions, always has been, doesn’t have the eye for measurement like James or the natural charm to get out of extra homework like Sirius, not really.
He turns a page and feels someone behind him. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up and suddenly there are hands over his eyes, hands that smell like dog and sunshine and dark chocolate. He smelled those things coming from a cauldron of Amortentia once and that’s when he knew that he and Sirius weren’t friends, not really.
“Guess who, Moony? Here’s a hint: it’s the sexiest, most awesome, perfect Quidditch player Hogwarts has ever seen.”
“Severus, I’m flattered but you must know, I don’t feel that way about you at all.”
This earns him a flick, but he doesn’t care, not really. “Bloody Snivellus, really, Moony? I’m insulted.” He moves his hands away and flops down in the chair next to Remus.
“Oh please Sirius, you know I’m only joking,” he says, returning to his notes. But there’s a faint smile on his lips that he can’t get rid of.
Sirius scoots his chair in closer and tugs on Remus’s arm. “Stop studying, will you? It’s a beautiful day and no one should be cooped up inside, not even you. Come play with me!”
“Sorry, but I don’t wake up every morning brilliant as you, so I, unfortunately, cannot play with you today.”
He turns another page despite the fact that he has not absorbed a single word of the previous one. It’ll only be a matter of time before he packs up his books anyway, because he can’t say no to Sirius, not really.
And there are suddenly lips at his ear and then down his neck and he tries to protest, tries to tell Sirius to think of the books, the poor books who are getting quite a show but it falls on deaf ears and Remus gives thanks for the day he found this teeny corner of the library. Sirius kisses the way he lives: rough and passionate and full speed ahead and Remus doesn’t think there’s anything better in the world, not really, except maybe for chocolate at the perfect temperature or new books but then Sirius nips at his lower lip and he forgets about all of those other things.
In 1994 he watches fifth years study for OWLS and wonders if he really took his that long ago. He spends every sunny Saturday in his favorite corner of the library and doesn’t think about Sirius and doesn’t love him anymore, not really.
Reply
ahh i love everything about this. thank you! ♥
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment