“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
He leans into the kiss, still smiling. “Well, except for that last bit. That part’s no good. But you’re not on your own anymore. You’ve got me.”
His lips are tingling. It’s only been a few weeks – this – and it still all felt – surreal. Like he was just asleep and any second now he’d wake up and roll over to find Sirius asleep in his own bed with a girl.
Stupid. You know the dorms are warded. They can’t get up here past curfew.
And then, suddenly, he’s laughing. Laughing so hard his sides ache and he has to drop his hands from where they had settled on Sirius’s shoulders to clutch his stomach.
He glances up after a moment, breathless and overly aware of what a mess he must look, flushed and watery-eyed, his hair a tangle. Remus wipes discreetly at his eyes.
“S-sorry. I was just–it’s just. The dormitory!” He’s still laughing. Not making any sense. It tickles his ribs. “The spells! They won’t work since I’m already in here!”
He buries his face in his hands and takes a couple of breaths to compose himself, the jittery flutter of laughter subsiding to a pleasant, curling warmth. His eyes are bright and shiny, big and brown. He narrows them at Sirius in reproach.
“And for the record, I know exactly what type of plant shop you’re running. The Hufflepuffs have every right to be horrified, vexed, scandalized and out for blood. I’d sleep with my wand under my pillow if I were you. You’re desecrating their sacred art.”
The guitar breaks into conversation, and Remus remembers the song, the guitar, the reason for all this. With a self-conscious tuck of his chin to his chest, he obliges, singing softly.
