Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: Okay, this is a little AU-ish, in that Remus and Sirius are in their sixth year and still haven't met. Oh, and Rem isn't a prefect. My first attempt at Harry Potter fanfiction, so I hope I do it justice.

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Every day, after classes are over, I walk out onto the empty Hogwarts grounds and tuck myself into an out-of-the-way corner, book in hand. My favorite place is just past the quidditch pitch, where a line of trees hides a low iron bench, forgotten by most people. It’s just me and the birds. Peaceful. Alone.

And then one day, he showed up.

Perhaps he was looking for a place to rest after quidditch practice. Maybe he was looking for a way to put off his homework. I don’t know. I never asked. We were in the same House, lived just a floor apart in the dorms, but we had never spoken before.

He sat down on my bench, plopped onto it lazily and spread his arms across the back, exhaling a sigh of relief. I sat very still, wondering if I should leave or just ignore him. Neither of us spoke for a long time, and eventually I went back to my book, hoping that he would leave soon.

He didn’t, of course. After a full hour, he turned his head and asked me, “You’re Remus Lupin, right?”

Surprised, I nodded. I’m not sure how he knew my name. I made myself as invisible as possible, especially to his crowd. I looked determinedly at my book and wished I had left.

“I’m Sirius Black,” he said charmingly, holding out a hand. I eyed it warily. I know who you are, I thought silently. Everyone knows Sirius Black. But I shook his hand anyway, and he leaned back against the bench, apparently satisfied.

Another ten minutes of silence passed, and I began to absorb myself into my book again. But just when I had started to forget who I was sitting with, he spoke again.

“So, Remus Lupin,” this grey-eyed boy asked me. “Tell me something about yourself.”

I know I blinked stupidly for at least a minute. Finally, I shrugged and answered, “I like to read.”

He laughed disarmingly at me, and said, “Well, that’s enough for today.” And he stood up and left.

The next day I returned to the same spot, assuming that it was still a solitary place that everyone ignored. I sat down and opened my book, just like any other day. But, not five minutes later, he walked up and sat down next to me again. Before I could even consider leaving, he caught my gaze and asked me the same question as before.

“Tell me something about yourself.”

I remember feeling a little frustrated. Why did he care? He was Sirius Black. He had a thousand places to be, a million people to talk to. Did he really have to come and disrupt my little world?

So it was somewhat peevishly that I replied, “I dislike noise.” I made my voice as accusing as possible.

To my surprise, he simply nodded and pulled out a book of his own, leaving me to stare in silence. Confused by his behavior and unwilling to believe that he had no ulterior motive, I stood up and left. I’m sure I felt his eyes follow me as I walked away, but I didn’t glance back, so who knows.

The next day, I considered changing spots to avoid him. It’s not like he was actually doing me any harm, but I didn’t like the interruption to my daily routine. But that bench was still one of my favorite spots, so I waited a couple of hours before setting out with my book.

When I reached the place, I stopped in surprise. There he was, sitting on the bench. Hearing my footsteps, he looked at me with a sort of half-smile.

“You’re late,” he scolded, stretching his arms above his head. I continued to stand, completely rooted to my spot. After a long moment, he patted the seat next to him, and I mechanically walked over, feeling rather disoriented. “So,” he said casually, as though there was nothing strange going on, “tell me something about yourself.”

After that I gave in. I came back every day, and he always followed a few minutes later. He asked the same question over and over again, and I gave him a new answer each day. I dislike licorice wands. Transfiguration is my favorite subject. I’m an only child. I prefer dark chocolate to milk. After I had answered, he always nodded and remained silent for the rest of the time we sat there.

I found myself spacing out during class, thinking about what I would tell him next. It was strange. In all my time at Hogwarts, I had refused to make any friends, for fear that someone would discover that I was a werewolf. But seeing him every day was almost like having a friend.

Then the first full moon came, and I knew I would have to miss a day of seeing him, since I always had to spend the night in the hospital wing. I remember slowly waking up the next morning, feeling dreadfully lonely. I wondered if he had waited for me at the bench, like he had that second day. Turning on my side, I heaved a sigh, and opened my eyes to see him sitting next to me.

“Wha-” I started, but he interrupted me with a cheerful voice.

“Good morning, Remus. Or, rather, afternoon. I brought you a chocolate frog.”

I stared at the wrapped sweet in his hand and frowned. “How did you know where I was?”

He gave me a mischievous wink and answered, “Lucky guess. Now come on, eat the frog.” He unwrapped the package for me as I sat and worried. Didn’t he see the scratches all over my face and arms? Didn’t he wonder what had happened? Or had he already figured out my secret? But if that was true, why hadn’t he revealed anything yet?

As he made small ribbit sounds and pushed the frog towards my mouth, I realized he was trying to cheer me up. I took a bite of the chocolate, saying, “Thank you, Sirius.”

I was taken aback when he blushed a little. “Look at that. It’s the first time you’ve ever called me by name,” he joked, sounding rather pleased. I ducked my head down, embarrassed, and nibbled at my frog. He left soon after to go down to lunch.

I started to watch him more during classes and meals. He was always loud and joking with others, always the center of attention. It was like watching a completely different person from the one who sat with me every day. I knew him as someone with a very gentle and calm personality, but watching him with his friends made me feel as if I didn’t know him at all. Or perhaps I just knew a different part of him that he didn’t show the crowds. It was confusing.

Half a year passed like this, and I wondered if he would leave when I ran out of things to tell him. Didn’t he realize that he was wasting hours of his time with me? And we still never talked outside of that spot or the hospital, didn’t even acknowledge each other in the common rooms. I was never really sure if I could call him my friend or not.

One day, I arrived at our bench to see him already there. Elbows resting on his knees and face buried in his hands, I knew something was wrong, but I had no idea what. How could I? I knew nothing about him other than what everyone knew. I sat down, and he didn’t move.

Wanting to cheer him up, just as he did for me when I was in the hospital, I fidgeted and tried to decide what to do. I nervously glanced at him, studying his pale figure. He didn’t move.

Unable to take it anymore, I blurted out, “Tell me something about yourself.”

He lifted his head and turne very slowly until he was looking at me. Blinking a couple of times, his expression softened and he gave me a crooked, but still dazzling, smile.

“I love you,” he said simply, and relief flooded through me. I hadn’t realized until that moment, but somewhere along the line, I had fallen in love with him, too.

And that’s enough. For now.