Sneak Peek: Stars in the Dark
Title: Stars in the Dark - Dancing with Wolves
Author: noldoparma
Pairing: Sirius/Remus
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: Rowling obviously owns the characters. I am merely borrowing them.
Warning: Hints of slash.
Beta: Unbeta'd, all the worst for it
Summary: ? My brain's fried and I can't summarise.
But yes, I am submitting this in rs_games, so this is strictly a sneak peek - largely because I'd like to know how this will go down. I haven't written anything outside of Tolkien seriously before, much less in a fandom I hardly know, so all prac crit, including grammar will be appreciated. And yes, this is only the first part, though it is possible to read it as a standalone I guess.
Could I also plead for someone to come up with a title for me? Pretty please?
I ramble. Obviously nervous.
Patience was a virtue for both man and beast, and he was well schooled in it as he lay still, waiting for the change to pass through his being. He should have gotten accustomed to the flood of sensations that threatened to overwhelm his every sense, but each moon he surrendered anew. A quiet resignation clouded his mind as a new coat began to cover him with a familiar comfort. The night air soon lost its biting chill, even as his nose picked up a fresh scent of approaching frost.
He curled up with the slightest shudder of fear - he feared the frost, the changing of the seasons.
Cold.
He opened his eyes and saw the shadows of grey where it had been a pall of pitch-black darkness just moments before. There was no one - not a whiff of a scent of his kin and kind. Distressed, he struggled to his feet and limping slightly as he allowed blood to flow to his much unused muscles, he walked around his den, seeking something. Someone.
Cold is coming.
The White One was coming with her shroud of death and she would take the world and all its scents in her stride. Where was his Pack? He was frantic - he could not be alone. Confusion stole over him as he pawed at the walls surrounding him, desperately edging his way out of his confines.
A splash of cold night wind threw itself on his muzzle as he popped his head out into the opening. The cicadas were buzzing in a thundering cacophony and there were still toads drowning the woods with their awful songs. He could hear the strangest shrieks and taunts as the wind teased the trees, who threw out their leaves in fright. But he did not find what he was looking for.
Where was his Pack?
He stood at the opening, not daring to venture out. He could run free with the wind with his Pack, he could gambol in shadows and hunt in the dark - he would dare to reign the woods in the light of the moon - but he was nothing without his Pack. He shrunk back further into his prison, finding a solace in the suffocating confines.
Lonely.
A broken cry cut through the night, like a blunted saw against a fallen timber. The Wolf was afraid as his eyes sought the last glimpse of the moon and the splatters of white across the black canvass.
He was alone.
---------------------------------------------------
“Now tell me, where in the name of that is remotely holy is it written that men have to do all the work? Girls get to fret over the most nonsensical little details like what to wear, but noooooooo, we get to drain our brain cells over finding the damn date in the first place!”
Remus sighed with quiet amusement at James’ agitation, even as he pulled his feet up onto the ledge to curl against the window and continue reading his book. He would have been more comfortable in his corner in the library, but Sirius had barged in and dragged him to this dusty music room with a desperate plea for a voice of sanity. Not that he could do much good, Remus thought, but at least he could save James from a certain death should Sirius’ limited patience run out.
Professor Dumbledore had only just announced last evening that a Seniors’ Ball would be the highlight of the Halloween celebrations next month and it was instantly the only thing that anyone, even those not in their final two years, could talk and think about. It was most certainly the only subject on James’ mind because he had not stopped ranting since.
“Finding a date is not your problem,” Sirius muttered not for the first time, slouched against the piano. He would have been a picture of sinful decadence, with his autumn robes in disarray and his fingers holding his wild black hair in place at the back of his head, but for the moment, he looked like a bored panther waiting to break out of his confines. “You already know whom to ask. Dolt.”
“It is not as if Lily would say no to you,” Peter nodded enthusiastically. He did not quite understand James’ angst, which he rather thought was quite unfounded, Surely James could have any girl he asked? He would have sworn that the last girl, Desiree from Hufflepuff if memory serves, whom James deigned to greet was still walking around like a picture of dazed bliss.
“Evans?!” James bristled. “Please. Why will I even ask Evans? Saddled with a cactus for the entire blooming evening?! I may be charitable, but I am not suicidal.”
“Fine,” Sirius rolled his eyes at the familiar refrain and added drolly, “I am quite certain Snivelly won’t mind the cactus at all, prick that he is.”
“Why would Evans go to the ball with Snivelly? No Gryphon goes anywhere with a snake and least of all that miserable excuse of a …”
Remus schooled his attention on the complexities of an invisibili8ty charm, pushing that gnawing ache in his heart aside. The emptiness within him had been growing bit by bit - and seemed to have swallowed him whole since the whole furore over the Seniors’ Ball started. Every chatter, every excited squeal and every moment of James’ rant echoed the same bitter whisper in his mind.
You are alone.
The whisper started in his fourth year when boys began to realize that girls grow up to be women. Sirius and James had sneaked in a racy magazine, which had entertained the entire dorm for hours at end. Save Remus alone. It was more than the fear of being caught by Professor McGonall that had prevented him from partaking in the same excitement - he knew, he had no interest at all.
No, it was not that females did not interest him. They fascinated him, rather in the same distant manner as he would regard the anatomical study of a centaur. The enthusiasm escaped him.
At first his self imposed exclusion did not bother him. It was nothing new: Rationality had always kept him on a tight leash and that had meant missing out on the worst of the pranks his best friends pulled. However this was different. As his friends began to develop a singular fixation on the girls whom they had spent the last five years ignoring, the whispers in his head had only become louder.
Why am I different?
The voice in his head chuckled harshly, coldly. Of course you are different. You are a werewolf.
Of course females held no attraction to him - these females, these girls were not of his kind. At a time where these two-leggeds sought their mates, no scent could appeal to him.
There is no one for you here.
Remus shook his head, forcing sensibility to prevail over the beast that dwelled in the dark recesses of his mind. It was just as well. He was a werewolf - he reminded himself, and he had no right, no freedom to find a date. Or even to explore in the hapless fashion that only youths in their age could. He had been trained, first by his parents and then by Professor Dumbledore, to remember his responsibility to his community - he could not, must not allow himself to put down his guard for even a breath of a space. What if he creates another werewolf just by kissing a girl?
You will have a mate.
Remus ignored that thought. He could not wish it on any girl or on anybody at all. No, he consoled himself, his mind had prevailed and quelled all baser instincts within. He would not give in to the same sweet madness as his peers - he could not.
“So Remus, darling, may I have this dance please?” A saccharine voice interrupted his thoughts.
Remus looked up abruptly at the devilish grin before him and stared at the outstretched hand with some bewilderment. Dance?
-----------------------------------------------
"...miserable excuse of a life form!"
"The miserable excuse of a life form is also planning to ask Lily," Sirius drawled, as the true entertainment value of his friend’s plight finally dawned upon him. "As is half the male population in Hogwarts. How fortunate you aren’t asking her after all."
"..." James gaped. "Evans?"
"Brains with a package," Sirius shrugged. "Sharp mind, quick wit, great figure, wonderful personality - what’s not to like?"
"Greggory is thinking of asking her too," Peter quipped.
Sirius slid off the bench and walked, prowled more like, towards James, who was still frozen with the realization that he had more competition on his hands than he had thought. Slinging his arm round his friend, Sirius said, "But there is always Richelle or Clarice of Hufflepuff. They are both rather sweet on you. I think they even made little badges for your last Quidditch match, Captain."
James scowled and elbowed Sirius sharply, which the latter deftly dodged. "I am not dating a Hufflepuff again. Too clingy."
"Lara of Ravenclaw."
"Are you crazy?! She recites the Book of Incantations backwards!"
"Makes for interesting conversation. Dephrenia of Slytherin."
"Pure blood."
"You are one too."
"Only reason why your parents have not slaughtered me. Please. Touch Dephrenia’s hand and I bet you her parents will be at my parents’ door comparing bloodlines before the week is out. By the end of the year, I will be engaged and happy new year all."
Sirius paused and looked at James, before they both rolled their eyes. This was the source of their friendship - the same exasperation with the stiff manners of their kin, Sirius more so than James. James was the only descendant in a long line of country wizards, earning him the unwanted privilege of his grandparents and parents’ undivided attention. Though gentle and kindly, they were nonetheless guided by a long list of acceptable attributes and propriety. Hogwarts was James’ escape - he had kept to his promise: maintain excellent grades and freedom however brief was his.
Sirius knew he had no such privilege.
"That means, my friend, no pure bloods for either of us," James sat down on the bench that Sirius had just vacated and looked wryly at Sirius. "Though, honestly, are you even going to ask a date?"
Sirius smiled, swallowing the deep bitterness that he had grown too accustomed to. He had dated, but never as freely as James or Peter could. James was right - he could not date a pure-blood without news running through their small social community within the hour and a series of dreaded match-making tea affairs.
But neither could he date a half-blood, much less a Muggle-born. He had tried, just to defy his blasted family - but after a few near disasters, he knew some lines would not be crossed. The Blacks were among the oldest wizard families and had kept the bloodline pure for as long as generations could remember.
Even the black sheep kept to this.
No, he had learnt to be careful about what and whom he cared for. These girls had done nothing to deserve social ostracisation and expulsion from school, frightful nightmares and cruel curses - they had merely been charmed by the cool nonchalance he habitually wore as protective armour.
He could not wish himself on any girl.
"Of course not. Why pick a single flower when you can have an entire field of them?" Sirius commented sardonically.
James chuckled. "For the opening dance of course. You are not going to steal a dance partner off some poor sod, are you?"
"Of course not, that would be unethical. But it will not be my fault if anyone should decide taht it would be safer to entrust their feet to me instead," Sirius commented, his attention suddenly drawn towards the figure reading comfortably in the window crevice.
Sirius frowned. He had not heard Remus say a single word since he dragged him away from the stuffy library. He would have thought the brunette would have given him a lengthy lecture about ethical and gentile manners by now, but Remus remained preoccupied with his book. Strange, they were not due for a class test, were they?
Now to think about it, when was the last time he had seen Remus without an advanced-level textbook? In fact, when was the last time he actually saw Remus out of the library?
"Must be nice knowing how to dance," Peter's quip interrupted Sirius' thoughts. "All those dance classes Professor Libby made us do were too awkward, but you two still cut across the floor so well. Sets you old noblesse apart I suppose."
Both James and Sirius raised an eyebrow simultaneously.
"Not a matter of bloodlines or heritage," James replied with a tinge of scorn. He never did understand Peter's fixation on social class and bloodlines. A person's birthright did not matter to James - he believed, fervently, that fate was seized, not pre-determined. It was his only assurance that he was more than just the last remaining heir of the Potter family. "Just a matter of skill and practice."
"And natural grace helps," Sirius mused; Peter had never been the deftest of feet among them. His attention turned again towards Remus and this time he smiled. Perhaps it was the wolf within him, but Remus had the poise most other gangly teenagers would kill for; aloof but gentle, quiet and sure. James stole the dance floor with his brazen arrogance, easily leading his hapless prey through a throng of people, which James naturally assumed would part for him. Remus on the other hand glided, just as effortlessly guiding his partner away from every other dancer while casually holding a conversation on stars and divinity. Turning back to James, Sirius asked with a hint of mischief, "Know how to work that thing, Prongs?"
James looked at Sirius with some surprise, "Work what?"
"The piano."
"With my fingers, no."
"The wand then. Let's try for a foxtrot. No, wait, this room is too small. A waltz. Coax a waltz out of that old antique, will you?"
"You can cast your own spell," James grumbled but reached for his wand tucked away in his sleeve anyway. "Whatever do you want a waltz for?"
"Dance, of course," Sirius remarked as he drew nearer to Remus, who was still lost in his book. Waving at James to proceed, he approached his unsuspecting quarry and asked, "So, Remus, darling, may I have this dance please?"
------------------------------------------------------
Remus stared at the proffered hand, not quite knowing how to respond. He looked up blankly at Sirius and tried to grab hold of one coherent thought, but his brain eluded him once more. Instead he found himself resisting the innate urge to sniff at the open palm.
Sirius was caught between the urge to laugh and to pat the poor lad on the head. He always did love befuddling his very studious friend, who was usually impeccably calm - too calm for James and his liking. How many times had he and James left Remus holding the bag after one of their many pranks just to watch him blink like a deer in the headlights?
And how many times had Remus gamely taken the rap?
Sirius’ grin softened at the memories and taking pity on his baffled friend, took a small bow and mock-pleaded, “Remus, darling, surely you are not going to turn me down, are you?”
The mockery shook Remus out of his confusion and composing himself, he rolled his eyes and turned back to his book, “In case it escapes your notice, I am no female - go get a proper dance partner.”
“No girl in sight, Moony,” Sirius grinned and knowing just the right buttons to push, added,” Peter wants to know how to dance. He desperately needs to learn before the Halloween ball, and this is the best we can do. So much easier to learn when there aren’t any girls around to see you trip up, don’t you think?”
“So dance with James.”
“I am not about to let Prongs lead me.”
“Oh please. Like I’ll let you lead,” James retorted quickly, still waving his wand nonchalantly at the old piano.
“Please, Remus?” Peter added.
“Moony?” Sirius knew the battle was won when Remus gave up on his book.
Remus looked beyond Sirius at the bemused James and earnest Peter, and back again at the devilish grin on Sirius’ face. He knew there and then that he had been had, but sighing in resignation, he glared balefully at Sirius, “Why can’t I lead?”
“Taller than you are, unfortunately,” Sirius replied, mirth evident in his voice. Bowing again, he offered his hand once more.
Remus ignored Sirius and slid his feet off the ledge. Sighing again, he positioned himself before Sirius placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder before finally slipping his hand into the latter’s. “I am not sure I can do this backwards.”
The frown between Remus’ brows amused Sirius no end. Slipping a hand behind Remus’, he nudged his partner closer to himself. His friend felt different from all the girls he had ever danced with, just as he figured he would.
He just felt better, Sirius mused.
It could be his height - Remus was close enough to his respectable height for him to feel his breath against his own. Or it could be his frame - no cumbersome curves that make it difficult to know where to place your hands - just smooth, lean muscles.
It was most definitely his scent, as the random though crossed Sirius’ mind. Remus smelled of the woods after a storm: fresh, woody musk. Which in Sirius’ books was about a few thousand notches above the flowery nonsense that the Hogwarts girls had become obsessed with since an Arabian astrologer set up shop in Hogsmeade.
Remus was trying to mentally work out the steps in reverse when he felt Sirius pulled him closer. He stiffened, unused to the proximity of the other, and fought the urge to sleep away from the firm hold Sirius had between his shoulders.
Was it the sudden confines, his voice of rationality spoke in his head. It would explain why he could feel adrenaline flood his senses, setting his heart on a faster tempo than the steady beats of the waltz.
Before his thoughts could go any further, Sirius took a step forward, bumping against his knee. The shock of warmth chased all thought from his mind and Remus nearly jumped when he heard Sirius comment softly, “Well there is only one way to find out. Shall I?”
The brush of Sirius’ breath against his ear sent a shudder down Remus’ spine. The wolf within him did not feel comfortable with another uite so close to his neck, but steeling himself against his instincts, Remus took a step back and said as dryly as he could manage, “Step on my feet, Padfoot, and there will be hell to pay.”
Sirius grinned. Giving Remus time to adjust to the novelty, he stepped closer, bringing his body flush against his partner’s and gently guided his friend in the simplest steps around the small room. “Lean back a little, Moony.”
All Remus could hear was his own heartbeat. Each breath brought Sirius’ scent closer to him. Each accidental brush and each unintended caress down his back made him more aware of Sirius’ hold on him. He forced himself to lean back further into the touch as Sirius led him into their first twirl.
Was it bloodlust, his ever curious self mused, having flesh so close to him? Or was it an instinctive struggle against being held captive?
He could feel a faint urge to sink his teeth in and taste the flesh right before him.
Mine. Prey.
Prey? Remus nearly leapt away from Sirius’ touch in horror, but the latter’s arm around him kept him in place. Willing himself to concentrate on the music, Remus backed away with increasing desperation to three-quarter time.
Remus’ preoccupation with keeping his sentience allowed him to give in easily to Sirius’ taking the lead. Mirth was gradually replaced by a deep concentration, as Sirius took the waltz in earnest. He marveled at Remus’ ease and wondered at the strength beneath his fingers as he twirled them both into a dip and then in a turn around the room. He caught James’ smirk, but his brain did not quite register, as he changed direction again and instinctively moved even closer to Remus.
It was the easiest dance he had ever led in. Usually he was very cautious with his dance partners, as and when he even deigned to dance. Where should he place his hands? How big a step could he take without tripping her up? What should they talk about? - girls, he had discovered, always needed to talk.
There was no such consideration with Remus, save a simple fluidity of movement. Perhaps it was because he was male too. The stretch of muscles he could feel in his partner as they turned into a hover corte, the grace as he watched Remus turn his head in the direction of the last whisk step all triggered an impulsive desire to match that polish movement for movement.
He had always been competitive, even among his best friends.
Sirius would have been more than contented to continue the duel had the music not stopped. Breaking contact with a strange reluctance, he took Remus’ hand and with an exaggerated bow, remarked, “It has been a pleasure.”
The music could not end soon enough for Remus. He could feel his blood pounding still and his little voice of reason, growing fainter by every beat, had cried itself hoarse in his mind.
What are you doing?! Any moment more and you would have tore at your friend! Your best friend!
Remus’ could only hear his voice crack, when he bowed slightly and replied, “The pleasure is all mine.”
Mine.
Remus felt the chill at the thought. He did not quite catch Peter’s comment as he closed his eyes and struggled to concentrate on the sxixteen laws of transfiguration. Anything that would summon his mind back.
You are a beast, Lupin.
His concentration nearly broke when he felt a warm hand grasping his shoulder gently and heard a concerned Sirius ask, “Remus. You alright?”
“A tad giddy,” he fumbled for an excuse. “Not used to doing this backwards.”
A ringing bell saved him from further questions. Deliberately turning away from Sirius’ touch, Remus crossed the room abruptly to pick up his book. Not daring to look at any of his friends, he brushed by them saying, “Sorry. I promised Professor Quinley to help tag his new specimens.”
Escaping from the music room, he rushed blindly through the corridor.
“Cripes. Teacher’s pet,” James scoffed, albeit with some fondness. Remus had, after all, often used his cookie points with the teachers and prefectorial board just to get either Sirius or himself out of trouble.
Sirius did not hear a word as he stared meaningfully at the closing door. Remus’ behavior was rather curious, but Sirius was more preoccupied with something stranger.
He was most definitely aroused.
Author: noldoparma
Pairing: Sirius/Remus
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: Rowling obviously owns the characters. I am merely borrowing them.
Warning: Hints of slash.
Beta: Unbeta'd, all the worst for it
Summary: ? My brain's fried and I can't summarise.
But yes, I am submitting this in rs_games, so this is strictly a sneak peek - largely because I'd like to know how this will go down. I haven't written anything outside of Tolkien seriously before, much less in a fandom I hardly know, so all prac crit, including grammar will be appreciated. And yes, this is only the first part, though it is possible to read it as a standalone I guess.
Could I also plead for someone to come up with a title for me? Pretty please?
I ramble. Obviously nervous.
Patience was a virtue for both man and beast, and he was well schooled in it as he lay still, waiting for the change to pass through his being. He should have gotten accustomed to the flood of sensations that threatened to overwhelm his every sense, but each moon he surrendered anew. A quiet resignation clouded his mind as a new coat began to cover him with a familiar comfort. The night air soon lost its biting chill, even as his nose picked up a fresh scent of approaching frost.
He curled up with the slightest shudder of fear - he feared the frost, the changing of the seasons.
Cold.
He opened his eyes and saw the shadows of grey where it had been a pall of pitch-black darkness just moments before. There was no one - not a whiff of a scent of his kin and kind. Distressed, he struggled to his feet and limping slightly as he allowed blood to flow to his much unused muscles, he walked around his den, seeking something. Someone.
Cold is coming.
The White One was coming with her shroud of death and she would take the world and all its scents in her stride. Where was his Pack? He was frantic - he could not be alone. Confusion stole over him as he pawed at the walls surrounding him, desperately edging his way out of his confines.
A splash of cold night wind threw itself on his muzzle as he popped his head out into the opening. The cicadas were buzzing in a thundering cacophony and there were still toads drowning the woods with their awful songs. He could hear the strangest shrieks and taunts as the wind teased the trees, who threw out their leaves in fright. But he did not find what he was looking for.
Where was his Pack?
He stood at the opening, not daring to venture out. He could run free with the wind with his Pack, he could gambol in shadows and hunt in the dark - he would dare to reign the woods in the light of the moon - but he was nothing without his Pack. He shrunk back further into his prison, finding a solace in the suffocating confines.
Lonely.
A broken cry cut through the night, like a blunted saw against a fallen timber. The Wolf was afraid as his eyes sought the last glimpse of the moon and the splatters of white across the black canvass.
He was alone.
---------------------------------------------------
“Now tell me, where in the name of that is remotely holy is it written that men have to do all the work? Girls get to fret over the most nonsensical little details like what to wear, but noooooooo, we get to drain our brain cells over finding the damn date in the first place!”
Remus sighed with quiet amusement at James’ agitation, even as he pulled his feet up onto the ledge to curl against the window and continue reading his book. He would have been more comfortable in his corner in the library, but Sirius had barged in and dragged him to this dusty music room with a desperate plea for a voice of sanity. Not that he could do much good, Remus thought, but at least he could save James from a certain death should Sirius’ limited patience run out.
Professor Dumbledore had only just announced last evening that a Seniors’ Ball would be the highlight of the Halloween celebrations next month and it was instantly the only thing that anyone, even those not in their final two years, could talk and think about. It was most certainly the only subject on James’ mind because he had not stopped ranting since.
“Finding a date is not your problem,” Sirius muttered not for the first time, slouched against the piano. He would have been a picture of sinful decadence, with his autumn robes in disarray and his fingers holding his wild black hair in place at the back of his head, but for the moment, he looked like a bored panther waiting to break out of his confines. “You already know whom to ask. Dolt.”
“It is not as if Lily would say no to you,” Peter nodded enthusiastically. He did not quite understand James’ angst, which he rather thought was quite unfounded, Surely James could have any girl he asked? He would have sworn that the last girl, Desiree from Hufflepuff if memory serves, whom James deigned to greet was still walking around like a picture of dazed bliss.
“Evans?!” James bristled. “Please. Why will I even ask Evans? Saddled with a cactus for the entire blooming evening?! I may be charitable, but I am not suicidal.”
“Fine,” Sirius rolled his eyes at the familiar refrain and added drolly, “I am quite certain Snivelly won’t mind the cactus at all, prick that he is.”
“Why would Evans go to the ball with Snivelly? No Gryphon goes anywhere with a snake and least of all that miserable excuse of a …”
Remus schooled his attention on the complexities of an invisibili8ty charm, pushing that gnawing ache in his heart aside. The emptiness within him had been growing bit by bit - and seemed to have swallowed him whole since the whole furore over the Seniors’ Ball started. Every chatter, every excited squeal and every moment of James’ rant echoed the same bitter whisper in his mind.
You are alone.
The whisper started in his fourth year when boys began to realize that girls grow up to be women. Sirius and James had sneaked in a racy magazine, which had entertained the entire dorm for hours at end. Save Remus alone. It was more than the fear of being caught by Professor McGonall that had prevented him from partaking in the same excitement - he knew, he had no interest at all.
No, it was not that females did not interest him. They fascinated him, rather in the same distant manner as he would regard the anatomical study of a centaur. The enthusiasm escaped him.
At first his self imposed exclusion did not bother him. It was nothing new: Rationality had always kept him on a tight leash and that had meant missing out on the worst of the pranks his best friends pulled. However this was different. As his friends began to develop a singular fixation on the girls whom they had spent the last five years ignoring, the whispers in his head had only become louder.
Why am I different?
The voice in his head chuckled harshly, coldly. Of course you are different. You are a werewolf.
Of course females held no attraction to him - these females, these girls were not of his kind. At a time where these two-leggeds sought their mates, no scent could appeal to him.
There is no one for you here.
Remus shook his head, forcing sensibility to prevail over the beast that dwelled in the dark recesses of his mind. It was just as well. He was a werewolf - he reminded himself, and he had no right, no freedom to find a date. Or even to explore in the hapless fashion that only youths in their age could. He had been trained, first by his parents and then by Professor Dumbledore, to remember his responsibility to his community - he could not, must not allow himself to put down his guard for even a breath of a space. What if he creates another werewolf just by kissing a girl?
You will have a mate.
Remus ignored that thought. He could not wish it on any girl or on anybody at all. No, he consoled himself, his mind had prevailed and quelled all baser instincts within. He would not give in to the same sweet madness as his peers - he could not.
“So Remus, darling, may I have this dance please?” A saccharine voice interrupted his thoughts.
Remus looked up abruptly at the devilish grin before him and stared at the outstretched hand with some bewilderment. Dance?
-----------------------------------------------
"...miserable excuse of a life form!"
"The miserable excuse of a life form is also planning to ask Lily," Sirius drawled, as the true entertainment value of his friend’s plight finally dawned upon him. "As is half the male population in Hogwarts. How fortunate you aren’t asking her after all."
"..." James gaped. "Evans?"
"Brains with a package," Sirius shrugged. "Sharp mind, quick wit, great figure, wonderful personality - what’s not to like?"
"Greggory is thinking of asking her too," Peter quipped.
Sirius slid off the bench and walked, prowled more like, towards James, who was still frozen with the realization that he had more competition on his hands than he had thought. Slinging his arm round his friend, Sirius said, "But there is always Richelle or Clarice of Hufflepuff. They are both rather sweet on you. I think they even made little badges for your last Quidditch match, Captain."
James scowled and elbowed Sirius sharply, which the latter deftly dodged. "I am not dating a Hufflepuff again. Too clingy."
"Lara of Ravenclaw."
"Are you crazy?! She recites the Book of Incantations backwards!"
"Makes for interesting conversation. Dephrenia of Slytherin."
"Pure blood."
"You are one too."
"Only reason why your parents have not slaughtered me. Please. Touch Dephrenia’s hand and I bet you her parents will be at my parents’ door comparing bloodlines before the week is out. By the end of the year, I will be engaged and happy new year all."
Sirius paused and looked at James, before they both rolled their eyes. This was the source of their friendship - the same exasperation with the stiff manners of their kin, Sirius more so than James. James was the only descendant in a long line of country wizards, earning him the unwanted privilege of his grandparents and parents’ undivided attention. Though gentle and kindly, they were nonetheless guided by a long list of acceptable attributes and propriety. Hogwarts was James’ escape - he had kept to his promise: maintain excellent grades and freedom however brief was his.
Sirius knew he had no such privilege.
"That means, my friend, no pure bloods for either of us," James sat down on the bench that Sirius had just vacated and looked wryly at Sirius. "Though, honestly, are you even going to ask a date?"
Sirius smiled, swallowing the deep bitterness that he had grown too accustomed to. He had dated, but never as freely as James or Peter could. James was right - he could not date a pure-blood without news running through their small social community within the hour and a series of dreaded match-making tea affairs.
But neither could he date a half-blood, much less a Muggle-born. He had tried, just to defy his blasted family - but after a few near disasters, he knew some lines would not be crossed. The Blacks were among the oldest wizard families and had kept the bloodline pure for as long as generations could remember.
Even the black sheep kept to this.
No, he had learnt to be careful about what and whom he cared for. These girls had done nothing to deserve social ostracisation and expulsion from school, frightful nightmares and cruel curses - they had merely been charmed by the cool nonchalance he habitually wore as protective armour.
He could not wish himself on any girl.
"Of course not. Why pick a single flower when you can have an entire field of them?" Sirius commented sardonically.
James chuckled. "For the opening dance of course. You are not going to steal a dance partner off some poor sod, are you?"
"Of course not, that would be unethical. But it will not be my fault if anyone should decide taht it would be safer to entrust their feet to me instead," Sirius commented, his attention suddenly drawn towards the figure reading comfortably in the window crevice.
Sirius frowned. He had not heard Remus say a single word since he dragged him away from the stuffy library. He would have thought the brunette would have given him a lengthy lecture about ethical and gentile manners by now, but Remus remained preoccupied with his book. Strange, they were not due for a class test, were they?
Now to think about it, when was the last time he had seen Remus without an advanced-level textbook? In fact, when was the last time he actually saw Remus out of the library?
"Must be nice knowing how to dance," Peter's quip interrupted Sirius' thoughts. "All those dance classes Professor Libby made us do were too awkward, but you two still cut across the floor so well. Sets you old noblesse apart I suppose."
Both James and Sirius raised an eyebrow simultaneously.
"Not a matter of bloodlines or heritage," James replied with a tinge of scorn. He never did understand Peter's fixation on social class and bloodlines. A person's birthright did not matter to James - he believed, fervently, that fate was seized, not pre-determined. It was his only assurance that he was more than just the last remaining heir of the Potter family. "Just a matter of skill and practice."
"And natural grace helps," Sirius mused; Peter had never been the deftest of feet among them. His attention turned again towards Remus and this time he smiled. Perhaps it was the wolf within him, but Remus had the poise most other gangly teenagers would kill for; aloof but gentle, quiet and sure. James stole the dance floor with his brazen arrogance, easily leading his hapless prey through a throng of people, which James naturally assumed would part for him. Remus on the other hand glided, just as effortlessly guiding his partner away from every other dancer while casually holding a conversation on stars and divinity. Turning back to James, Sirius asked with a hint of mischief, "Know how to work that thing, Prongs?"
James looked at Sirius with some surprise, "Work what?"
"The piano."
"With my fingers, no."
"The wand then. Let's try for a foxtrot. No, wait, this room is too small. A waltz. Coax a waltz out of that old antique, will you?"
"You can cast your own spell," James grumbled but reached for his wand tucked away in his sleeve anyway. "Whatever do you want a waltz for?"
"Dance, of course," Sirius remarked as he drew nearer to Remus, who was still lost in his book. Waving at James to proceed, he approached his unsuspecting quarry and asked, "So, Remus, darling, may I have this dance please?"
------------------------------------------------------
Remus stared at the proffered hand, not quite knowing how to respond. He looked up blankly at Sirius and tried to grab hold of one coherent thought, but his brain eluded him once more. Instead he found himself resisting the innate urge to sniff at the open palm.
Sirius was caught between the urge to laugh and to pat the poor lad on the head. He always did love befuddling his very studious friend, who was usually impeccably calm - too calm for James and his liking. How many times had he and James left Remus holding the bag after one of their many pranks just to watch him blink like a deer in the headlights?
And how many times had Remus gamely taken the rap?
Sirius’ grin softened at the memories and taking pity on his baffled friend, took a small bow and mock-pleaded, “Remus, darling, surely you are not going to turn me down, are you?”
The mockery shook Remus out of his confusion and composing himself, he rolled his eyes and turned back to his book, “In case it escapes your notice, I am no female - go get a proper dance partner.”
“No girl in sight, Moony,” Sirius grinned and knowing just the right buttons to push, added,” Peter wants to know how to dance. He desperately needs to learn before the Halloween ball, and this is the best we can do. So much easier to learn when there aren’t any girls around to see you trip up, don’t you think?”
“So dance with James.”
“I am not about to let Prongs lead me.”
“Oh please. Like I’ll let you lead,” James retorted quickly, still waving his wand nonchalantly at the old piano.
“Please, Remus?” Peter added.
“Moony?” Sirius knew the battle was won when Remus gave up on his book.
Remus looked beyond Sirius at the bemused James and earnest Peter, and back again at the devilish grin on Sirius’ face. He knew there and then that he had been had, but sighing in resignation, he glared balefully at Sirius, “Why can’t I lead?”
“Taller than you are, unfortunately,” Sirius replied, mirth evident in his voice. Bowing again, he offered his hand once more.
Remus ignored Sirius and slid his feet off the ledge. Sighing again, he positioned himself before Sirius placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder before finally slipping his hand into the latter’s. “I am not sure I can do this backwards.”
The frown between Remus’ brows amused Sirius no end. Slipping a hand behind Remus’, he nudged his partner closer to himself. His friend felt different from all the girls he had ever danced with, just as he figured he would.
He just felt better, Sirius mused.
It could be his height - Remus was close enough to his respectable height for him to feel his breath against his own. Or it could be his frame - no cumbersome curves that make it difficult to know where to place your hands - just smooth, lean muscles.
It was most definitely his scent, as the random though crossed Sirius’ mind. Remus smelled of the woods after a storm: fresh, woody musk. Which in Sirius’ books was about a few thousand notches above the flowery nonsense that the Hogwarts girls had become obsessed with since an Arabian astrologer set up shop in Hogsmeade.
Remus was trying to mentally work out the steps in reverse when he felt Sirius pulled him closer. He stiffened, unused to the proximity of the other, and fought the urge to sleep away from the firm hold Sirius had between his shoulders.
Was it the sudden confines, his voice of rationality spoke in his head. It would explain why he could feel adrenaline flood his senses, setting his heart on a faster tempo than the steady beats of the waltz.
Before his thoughts could go any further, Sirius took a step forward, bumping against his knee. The shock of warmth chased all thought from his mind and Remus nearly jumped when he heard Sirius comment softly, “Well there is only one way to find out. Shall I?”
The brush of Sirius’ breath against his ear sent a shudder down Remus’ spine. The wolf within him did not feel comfortable with another uite so close to his neck, but steeling himself against his instincts, Remus took a step back and said as dryly as he could manage, “Step on my feet, Padfoot, and there will be hell to pay.”
Sirius grinned. Giving Remus time to adjust to the novelty, he stepped closer, bringing his body flush against his partner’s and gently guided his friend in the simplest steps around the small room. “Lean back a little, Moony.”
All Remus could hear was his own heartbeat. Each breath brought Sirius’ scent closer to him. Each accidental brush and each unintended caress down his back made him more aware of Sirius’ hold on him. He forced himself to lean back further into the touch as Sirius led him into their first twirl.
Was it bloodlust, his ever curious self mused, having flesh so close to him? Or was it an instinctive struggle against being held captive?
He could feel a faint urge to sink his teeth in and taste the flesh right before him.
Mine. Prey.
Prey? Remus nearly leapt away from Sirius’ touch in horror, but the latter’s arm around him kept him in place. Willing himself to concentrate on the music, Remus backed away with increasing desperation to three-quarter time.
Remus’ preoccupation with keeping his sentience allowed him to give in easily to Sirius’ taking the lead. Mirth was gradually replaced by a deep concentration, as Sirius took the waltz in earnest. He marveled at Remus’ ease and wondered at the strength beneath his fingers as he twirled them both into a dip and then in a turn around the room. He caught James’ smirk, but his brain did not quite register, as he changed direction again and instinctively moved even closer to Remus.
It was the easiest dance he had ever led in. Usually he was very cautious with his dance partners, as and when he even deigned to dance. Where should he place his hands? How big a step could he take without tripping her up? What should they talk about? - girls, he had discovered, always needed to talk.
There was no such consideration with Remus, save a simple fluidity of movement. Perhaps it was because he was male too. The stretch of muscles he could feel in his partner as they turned into a hover corte, the grace as he watched Remus turn his head in the direction of the last whisk step all triggered an impulsive desire to match that polish movement for movement.
He had always been competitive, even among his best friends.
Sirius would have been more than contented to continue the duel had the music not stopped. Breaking contact with a strange reluctance, he took Remus’ hand and with an exaggerated bow, remarked, “It has been a pleasure.”
The music could not end soon enough for Remus. He could feel his blood pounding still and his little voice of reason, growing fainter by every beat, had cried itself hoarse in his mind.
What are you doing?! Any moment more and you would have tore at your friend! Your best friend!
Remus’ could only hear his voice crack, when he bowed slightly and replied, “The pleasure is all mine.”
Mine.
Remus felt the chill at the thought. He did not quite catch Peter’s comment as he closed his eyes and struggled to concentrate on the sxixteen laws of transfiguration. Anything that would summon his mind back.
You are a beast, Lupin.
His concentration nearly broke when he felt a warm hand grasping his shoulder gently and heard a concerned Sirius ask, “Remus. You alright?”
“A tad giddy,” he fumbled for an excuse. “Not used to doing this backwards.”
A ringing bell saved him from further questions. Deliberately turning away from Sirius’ touch, Remus crossed the room abruptly to pick up his book. Not daring to look at any of his friends, he brushed by them saying, “Sorry. I promised Professor Quinley to help tag his new specimens.”
Escaping from the music room, he rushed blindly through the corridor.
“Cripes. Teacher’s pet,” James scoffed, albeit with some fondness. Remus had, after all, often used his cookie points with the teachers and prefectorial board just to get either Sirius or himself out of trouble.
Sirius did not hear a word as he stared meaningfully at the closing door. Remus’ behavior was rather curious, but Sirius was more preoccupied with something stranger.
He was most definitely aroused.