Chapter Text
“Do not forget your lessons, and as always, I will see you after the two week break,” Mcgonagall stared at them intently, scanning the room, as if memorizing, probably thinking not everyone will return as they are. Her eyes were hard, lips set in a thin line.
The Purge was that night, and as usual, they were dismissed early to prepare. After that the headmaster created their own holiday break–because the government had yet to announce one–for everyone to heal.
“Please, be careful. Know your choices,” With a few reminders, she dismissed the class, and the sound of chairs scraping tiled floors, and the hushed chatter of students filled the room.Among the throng of students–some obviously tense and apprehensive, others in excited vigor of what was to come, and those in between who’d rather pretend the event didn’t exist–was wealthy enough to be able to–Sirius remained seated, his chin on his palm. His pensive eyes were fixed on someone a row to his right, two seats in front of him.
The back of Remus Lupin’s head was quite lovely, as the rest of him usually was. Sirius was taken with the way the soft hair fell, as Remus bent down to gather his things, one of the only students who bothered to take out their notes to actually study on the day of The Purge. Sirius had maybe, five conversations with him in total. The first was in First year, where Sirius greeted him, and he politely greeted back. It was uneventful, but with meaning, because that probably meant they were friends, in a way, and Sirius found that the people in his new house were better than those he met at family gatherings.
The next four conversations were in the year next, when they were assigned a pair work in maths. And that was it. But Sirius thought they had a connection, probably, because after that, whenever something funny happened in class they’d coincidentally look in the other’s direction and share a smile. Sure he hadn’t had a decent, getting-to-know-you chat, but he knew he liked the lad, for his cheeky comments that Sirius overheard him say, that had the black-haired boy snickering, and the way he recited in classes, in detail but not showing intimidation, even though everyone knew he was smart. He kept to himself, but he helped those struggling in lessons, and he was good at it.
Sirius pretended he didn’t know all these details about Remus, and pretended he didn’t feel faint when Remus had a growth spurt entering sixth year. Sirius pretended that he didn’t blush every time their eyes met, or when he catches himself staring. He was probably getting obvious.
Remus turned slightly to his left to pick up a pen, and Sirius’ gaze fell on an old scar that ran from his nose bridge to his ear, one that first made an appearance after the two-week purge holiday from third year, along with a plethora along his chest and back when Sirius got a guilty eyeful of him during Phys Ed. Sirius knew Remus was not very well-off, from the boy’s worn-down clothing and ratty backpack, and he also knew people who were not well-off were the usual targets of psychopaths with raging hostility.
So Sirius’ stomach was filled with a heavy weight, watching Remus get ready to leave.
Remus turned to him, and their eyes met. Remus gave a small smile, like he always did, and Sirius felt like his chest was being compressed, leaving his breathing labored; he smiled back, trying to be more sure of himself, telling himself he’d see him after two weeks, like he always did.