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The sun went down hours ago.
Not that he noticed, seeing as the past few weeks consisted of incessant rain all – students and staff alike – grew used to. The sun seemed to be permanently obscured by the ponderous rain clouds, which claimed the sky about the castle as their new home.
A general feeling of gloom settled over the school grounds, brightened momentarily by the glow of candles during the Halloween feast. That was days ago, though.
Now, the shadows returned in full force.
The second day of November had gone away from him, like so many before, in a blur of heavy gusts of wind rattling the windows of Gryffindor's tower and the ever-present rainfall.
Within a blink of an eye, he found himself face to face with a date he had dreaded since the very end of August when he left Flourish and Blotts with a heavy bag filled with 7-year textbooks and a much lighter pocket.
By lighter, he undeniably meant almost empty.
Hard decisions had been made that day in the middle of Diagon Alley. Madame Malkin hadn’t seen Remus that summer to tailor a new set of robes for his rapidly growing body. Honey Dukes had been a few bars of chocolate richer since their most loyal customer hadn’t made an appearance to top up his stock. Florean had served three sets of Sundaes instead of four, as one friend had missed the end-of-summer catch-up filled with ice creams and cakes.
Remus had cancelled all his plans that summer in a desperate attempt to help his dire financial situation.
Somehow, he had managed to convince himself that by the time November came around, he would find a solution to his financial predicament. Sirius’ birthday and Christmas had been months away.
Until they weren’t.
His own sigh interrupted the silence, startling Remus. His gaze, just a second ago completely unseeing, fell on the steadily shrinking candles on the table in front of him.
The flame burnt its way through the wick, spilling wax down brass holders onto the wooden surface. If he had noticed in time, he might have cared enough to cast a quick spell to protect the rolls of parchment scattered all over its surface.
He didn’t, though. Not the wax, not the storm, not the blot of ink swallowing words of his latest potions essay.
His mind was elsewhere – still in the Gryffindor tower, but just up the spiralling stairs, past the heavy wooden door with initials S.B. carved into it with a rusty pocketknife.
The reason for his distraction, directly tied to the shame burning its way through his veins and lungs, slept in their shared dormitory blissfully unaware.
Sirius Black.
His best friend – the prankster, the most charming boy in the entire Hogwarts, the person that made him feel it all. Happiness, fury, admiration, curiosity.
The birthday boy.
Remus rolled his shoulders at the thought, a wan effort at relieving some of the stress tension in his neck from sitting in a tattered wingchair for the better part of the afternoon and the entirety of the evening.
He closed the titleless book, which had led on his lap for hours, forgotten and unused.
He had finally given up on pretences of appearing busy – there was no one in the Common Room to witness the depths of his misery. It was surprisingly difficult to pretend to read without looking suspicious or distracted and it made him feel absolutely drained.
Sirius, as well as James, had been asleep in their respective beds for hours now, keen on resting their overworked muscles after a particularly challenging Quidditch practice.
James looked like a shivering, soaked mess when they had appeared through the hole in the portrait this afternoon following the last practice before the upcoming Gryffindors vs Ravenclaw match.
Remus pretended not to notice how they waved at him, worried he might accidentally encourage a conversation.
In the end, James whistled to get his attention and followed it by a mocking comment about Remus' efforts at devouring every available book in his direct proximity that might slightly improve his chances of scoring the highest marks during the NEWTs. Remus waved him away with a fake smile, not looking up. Too terrified that Sirius might be able to read the truth on his face.
He had a talent for that, after all.
Throughout the evening, all attempts at distracting himself proved to be futile. Nothing could occupy his mind long enough to ease the feeling of dread, which made its home in the pit of his stomach at the thought of Sirius' birthday.
Not even the impossible task of appearing inconspicuous while doing something as strange as pretending to read could keep him occupied.
It seemed to Remus that he was the only one who even remotely cared about tomorrow. Indeed, he was the only one worried about it, too.
He looked at his watch, its face dull with scratches and barely attached to the worn leather straps.
The only one who's worried about today , he corrected himself, noticing the hand of the watch slipped past number twelve.
He settled his reading glasses on top of his head, getting some of the longest strands of hair off his tired face.
He really should follow his friends' footsteps and try to get some shut-eye. He could wager the last coins in his possession – more sickles than galleons – that even Peter was having a better night in the Hospital Wing, regardless of the nasty cold he went down with a few days ago.
Yes, even Peter could sleep soundly – he could afford to buy a friend a birthday present.
Remus couldn’t, and the thought has been eating at him since August when he had to make hard choices between his education and saving money for a gift for his best friend.
For the person, who was the closest thing to a soulmate, in Remus' understanding of the term. Who risked his life every month to ease the pain of his transformation... To keep company to the beast Remus became during full moons.
He rubbed at his eyes, defeat visible in his slumped shoulders and dragging footsteps up the stairs to the dormitory.
The boys’ dormitory, shared with James, Sirius, and Peter, was dark enough for Remus to struggle to make out the outline of treacherous trunks and Quidditch gear scattered on the carpet.
The moonlight was absent, hidden behind the grey clouds, and for once, Remus was happy to risk stubbing his toes on a pile of hardback books, which were strewed in disarray around James's bed. No moonlight meant no reminder of the monster within him and the very reason for this current money struggle.
Was this what he had to look forward to post-Hogwarts? Unemployment, judgement and penniless existence?
He managed to make his way past James uninjured, which he considered the highlight of his day, given how badly the past few hours went for him.
He got ready for bed absent-mindedly. The threadbare jumper caught his reading glasses, which he had forgotten still sat on the top of his sandy blonde head. The frames slid down towards the back of his neck, and he reached for them in panic before they hit the floor with a crush.
He couldn't afford to buy another pair or risk waking up his roommates.
Paying more attention to his movements, he continued to strip down to his boxers without bothering to put his pyjamas on. So close to the full moon, he always run hot. The blanket in the foot of his bed, crocheted by James' mum last Christmas, was enough to keep him warm at night.
The sleep never came. Usually, when Remus struggled to sleep, it was because he was hunted by the sight of the moon gradually filling in. Each night, bit by bit, the crescent was slowly morphing into the stuff of his worst nightmares, taunting him in silence.
Sadly, it wasn’t just the night of the full moon that filled him with fear. It was the long nights in the dormitory, spent watching the unavoidable transformation of the moon, that brought dread and trepidation.
Funnily enough, the night of the full moon itself was often the most uncomplicated night of the month. His human side was buried deep enough under the layers of animalistic instincts for Remus not to be terrified of what would happen once the beast took over.
This night, however, it wasn’t the moon that kept him awake.
Instead, it was the scenarios playing in a loop in his mind – the worst and the best reaction Sirius might have to the news that Remus came empty-handed to his birthday celebration.
Will he be disappointed? Will he laugh? Or worse yet, will Sirius pity him?
It happened on occasion, Remus was mortified to admit. This year, even more so, seeing as Remus arrived at Hogwarts in his old uniform, which even the previous year was a couple of inches too short. He tried to remedy it by rolling his sleeves, pretending he was going for a laid-back, bad-boy look similar to Sirius’, but his friends knew better than to believe this front.
There were no tattoos to show off, just scars.
No questions were asked. James began to wear his sleeves rolled, too, in silent support even when the goosebumps covered his forearms from wrist to elbow in a chilly November air.
Even if money wasn’t an issue, wondered Remus in frustration, what does one get someone who has everything?
With all honesty, Remus could not think of a single thing Sirius might desire. As an heir to Black's fortune, best friend to James Potter, and an academically gifted student, he had free access to everything one could wish for.
But it’s Sirius, a voice of reason sounded in his head. He will understand. He always understands.
For a moment, Remus felt almost guilty for projecting his fear of embarrassment and rejection onto Sirius, for believing him capable of judgment based on the state of his Gringotts vault.
Sirius had never given him a reason to fear that.
But others did—James with his well-meaning offers and Peter with the occasional tactless jokes.
Before he realized, Remus was out of his bed. Silent footsteps on a plush red carpet took him to Sirius' bed by the window.
The bed had been initially assigned to Remus in his first year of studies. Even back then, before Sirius had found out about the lycanthropy, he could clearly tell that Remus was bothered by the arrangements and had offered to swap the beds.
The offer had been welcomed and accepted immediately. If Sirius thought the reasoning was odd (“ this part of the room is very drafty ”), he never said so.
Driven by the memory of Sirius’ boundless understanding and kindness, he touched his shoulder lightly and shook it before he had a chance to change his mind about admitting the truth.
“Remus?” asked Sirius, voice deep and sluggish with sleep.
Remus swallowed loudly, taken aback by the husky quality of Sirius’ voice. He tried again, mouth dry and empty of words to say as a reply.
He had heard a lot of versions of his name coming from Sirius’ mouth over the years.
There was Remus – playful and mischievous when Sirius was just about to ask him to do the heavy lifting part of planning their newest prank.
There was Remus – stern and grave whenever he needed a reminder of the facts, which were that he was a friend, not a burden. That he belonged, was wanted, and needed .
And there was Remus? - quiet and concerned, basked in the first rays of the rising sun following a night of terror.
But never Remus as it was tonight. Tonight, it was an open question with a million possible answers. Remus couldn’t settle on one – instead, he swallowed again, running a hand through his hair.
There were too many things he wanted to say, and not one he could say out loud.
“Remus?” repeated Sirius, sitting up, concern now lacing his voice. “Is everything okay?”
Even in the darkness, Remus could make out the outline of Sirius' body, which quickly morphed from languid and relaxed to alerted by being woken up from his slumber without warning.
At a loss for words, Remus nodded silently, racking his brain for a sensible reply.
His shoulders slumped with an admission that no excuse could sound reasonable coming from the side of the bed at one in the morning.
"I wanted to wish you a happy birthday," he mumbled in a hushed voice, racking his brain for a good opening statement. Suddenly worried about waking James up and gaining another witness to this public humiliation, he glanced over his shoulder towards James' bed in the far corner of the dormitory only to see him in his regular sleeping position – arms stretched above his head, legs tangled in the bedding.
For Merlin’s sake, what is wrong with you tonight? He chastised himself for acting on impulse and waking Sirius up in the first place. The last thing they needed was to get James involved.
Calmed by the sight of James sleeping form, he returned his attention to Sirius – now fully awakened.
“As grateful as I am...” began Sirius teasingly, his signature playfulness slowly seeping into his words as he grew more awake. “I can’t help but wonder if that couldn’t wait until the morning. Not all of us are nocturnal creatures, you know.”
"You're right, of course." Remus agreed quickly, a bit too loudly, too eager to put an end to the conversation and then, hopefully, his miserable existence as well. He highly doubted he would be able to cope with the humiliation of this interaction.
James stirred in his bed with a gruff groan, pulling a pillow over his head. Even with his sensitive hearing, Remus couldn’t determine whether the mumble coming from his mouth was directed at them or the person James was dreaming of.
Remus tensed and waited for him to wake up and question what was happening.
Without warning, long, warm fingers wrapped around his wrist and pulled his body onto the bed. He landed knees first, chest second, straight into Sirius, whose hard body on impact felt carved from stone.
Only stone wasn’t warm.
Will that leave bruises? , Remus wondered dazedly. He bloody hoped so.
He needed a physical reminder, even if temporary, of the time he landed in Sirius Black's bed—false pretences or not. Otherwise, come dawn, he might think it was all a dream.
With a swish of Sirius' wand, curtains drew closed, followed by a distinctive glow of a silencing charm.
"What- what are you doing?" Remus stammered, trying to get his bearing on the situation he was suddenly thrust into.
“Well, we don’t want to wake that grump up, do we?” he whispered back despite the security of the Muffliato. His warm breath reached Remus’ face, alerting him to their sudden closeness. If he thought his mind was blank earlier, now it was a black hole with Sirius in its centre. Nothing existed there – no light, no air, just Sirius.
Awareness spread over him like a cool wave of the Disillusionment Charm; he felt as if he was under a spell that made his body tingle with anticipation. For what? He wasn’t sure.
"And now that you have me worried about your mental well-being, I can’t let you go without hearing the real reason why you decided to hover over my bed in the middle of the night. Frankly speaking, I can’t imagine the words "Sirius, you're right" leaving your mouth unless something was seriously wrong with you, or you were at a wand point."
There was a shift on the bed; the duvet lifted to accommodate Remus and his gangly limbs. Sirius, dressed from head to toe in flannel pyjamas – so unlike his usual choice of clothing – scooted towards the edge of the bed in an invitation.
“You’re so...”
Remus stopped himself from finishing the sentence. He didn’t trust himself not to follow with another inappropriate statement. It was easy to say things in the dark; addressing them in the light of day tomorrow would be entirely different.
He wasn’t ready for that.
Sirius, sensing his mood changing and a wave of panic ensuing, pinched his exposed skin just below the ribs with a roughish smile.
“You know what? I’m taking it back. Don’t have a happy birthday, you don’t deserve it, you prat. As a matter of fact, I hope you have the worst birthday possible.”
Despite his sour words, he felt his body relaxing into the mattress. Remus never thought himself capable of simply enjoying being engulfed by a smell that was so distinctively Sirius.
"Oh, shut up, Moony," he laughed airily, pulling a duvet over them with natural ease as if they had slept in the same bed multiple times before that night. "You don’t mean that. You wouldn't stay up till the wee hours of the morning thinking about me if you did.”
"Technically, I was thinking about your birthday, not you specifically, so I can absolutely mean it." He argued weakly to make a point.
“The lack of logic in this sentence is staggering. I’ll let you off, though, since it is the middle of the night."
To highlight it, Sirius yawned twice in a row, but the words that left his mouth next indicated he wasn’t done with the conversation:
“Tell me, Moony... Did you sleepwalk into my bed on purpose or by accident?”
“Walk TO your bed, not into your bed, I beg to differ!” he argued heatedly, feeling a blush creeping into his cheeks. "To remind you, you pulled me into this bed by force. I would never choose to seek you out voluntarily, conscious or not."
Remus felt Sirius' chest shake with a deep rumble of laughter that made his insides feel like they were buzzing with energy.
Oh, Merlin...
Once the laughter died down, Sirius' features grew more sombre.
“Was it the moon?... Keeping you awake, I mean. We must be... what – two days away from a full moon?”
“I...” he started, attempting to pour all his worries into the words.
I’m sorry.
I don’t deserve you.
I’m scared.
What is happening right now?
The words never came, though.
But Sirius didn’t need words. After all, he had a talent for reading minds. Remus' especially.
His arms tightened around Remus, locking his body in a firm embrace. They shared hugs before – never like this, though. Not on a single bed, limbs tangled together. A red flannel the only thing separating their bodies.
“Tell me." Was all he said while his fingers traced a particularly raised scar on his forearm like it was the most natural thing to do.
“It’s your birthday present," Remus started, distracted. "Or shall I say, lack thereof?"
Sirius’ brows knitted in confusion, softened only by a hint of a gentle smile.
“I don’t have one for you..." he continued. “The textbooks and potion ingredients this year were so bloody expensive...” he trailed off, feeling his throat grow thick with embarrassment; he lowered his gaze and focused on Sirius's long fingers, skimming his arm soothingly.
"Moony," Sirius said softly, his hand drifting upwards to cup Remus’ cheek with surprising intimacy and confidence. “You... and this right here is gift enough.”
In the silence that followed, Remus understood why Sirius' actions tonight seemed so natural and familiar despite their novelty.
It was because this – they – felt right.
Remus nodded in sudden understanding, meeting a pair of grey eyes.
This was enough, he thought with a sleepy smile before drifting off.