It takes a very long time for Remus Lupin to hate someone. He is a fairly calm and respectful person, harmonious with everyone to avoid a fight. Remus would do anything to avoid a physical or emotional fight, whether it was with himself or not. It certainly wouldn't be hard for Remus to get exasperated with the Slytherin whose hobby seemed to be coming up with outlandish and pernicious nicknames for him, and then the Slytherin would bring out his wand Remus would be forced to bring out his own because who else is there to protect him? But then the Slytherin would go for old-fashioned fist-meets-face method and then rip at his robes, which would certainly expose skin and scars.
Remus lives in a life of what ifs, but the worst what ifs would be the ones in which he loathes someone so much that they are officially known as The Enemy.
And he thinks, just thinks, that he's already made an enemy.
He's only been here one week, two days, four hours, and fifty-eight minutes.
Sirius Black glares at him from across the table, being a bit too forceful with the toast knife, before irritably whipping his head around to his food in one swift motion.
Remus looks at his plate with a weary sigh.
He thinks he knows what he did wrong. But he's really not sure. Remus' memory for that night on the train was very poor, since it was a evening he rather wants to forget. The facts are ambiguous, and despite the fact that he wants it to be that way, Remus needs to search into them if he wants to find out why Sirius Black hates him.
Remus squints and drops his fork.
He remembers stumbling up the steps to the train and fumbling to put his suitcase into the luggage rack. He remembers talking to the train conductor, chatting merrily about the enormous amount of power the engine had. And then the train had started rolling on the tracks and that must have been when all hell broke loose.
Remus stops squinting, a look of understanding falling onto his face. He vaguely remembers arguing with Bertha Jorkins in the train hall when they had arrived at school about why he didn't like the color black. Something about how it was too dark and how it clearly had an air of evil about it. Sirius had then roughly knocked his shoulder into Remus' blatantly, obviously misconstruing the argument Remus and Bertha had been discussing.
Remus lets his face fall into his hands, shaking his head.
At least now he knows why the hell he had acquired an enemy like the risky looking boy named Sirius Black.
Remus sends a faint smile over the table. Sirius furrows his eyebrow at the action before he casually flips his finger in the direction of the werewolf loftily. Remus tilts his head at the boy, watching as a soft strand of hair falls innocently and elegantly into Sirius' hair. Remus doesn't have trouble admitting that Sirius is good looking. Hell, he's even sexy for a boy his age. He doesn't have trouble admitting that Remus sometimes finds himself staring at Sirius' fixedly focused and attentive gray eyes, silver when the light sparkles on them, and his sleek black hair that compliments his porcelain-like pale skin. He doesn't have trouble admitting that Remus is a little bit attracted to Sirius. Except that he totally does. He totally does have a problem with admitting that.
They are supposed to be enemies. Maybe not The Official Enemy, but they certainly aren't getting anywhere.
Remus shrugs. There is more time to become friends.
It does not take Sirius Black a very long time to hate someone. He's a rash and impulsive person, and he certainly doesn't take anybody's shit. Especially when it's about him.
However, if there was one thing Sirius does not do, it's judge a person by their name, their appearance, or their clothing.
First impressions are wrong and judgmental. Sirius doesn't believe in hating someone until he knows who they are.
Or if they judge him.
It only took Sirius Black two minutes and forty-three seconds to find out that he hated Remus Lupin.
James Potter and him had just been chatting about the evolution of broomsticks merrily when they had bumped into a frail looking boy with robes that had tears on the sleeves and clumsy threads hanging off unceremoniously from the hem. Sirius hadn't judged the boy; despite his meek and feeble figure – and had given him an encouraging smile.
It had been then that the boy had looked at him, his face a giant question mark, and then Sirius had noticed the two prominent scars slashing across his face, frighteningly fresh and shining scarlet, along with a litter of small, faded and faint ones on the rest of his face and neck.
He and James had both drawn in their breaths and tried to suppress their grimaces of horror, but instead they had both given grins that had probably come off as half-hearted expressions of pain and revolt.
James had pulled on his arm and they had sauntered off to a compartment away from the boy that looked like he had just crawled into a food processor as though he had expecting it to be a carousal, clothes and all, and wandered onto the wrong train just right afterwards.
Sirius hadn't judged him them. He had felt a bit of sorrow for the boy, and perhaps a bit of curiosity of the state of his damaged self, but he had not hated him.
It was later when Sirius had gone to get his suitcases from the luggage compartments and the lithe little wounded boy had done the same. After having the luggage almost swallow him, plump Bertha Jorkins had kindly lifted it down for him. They had a quiet, murmured conversation before Sirius heard the boy's slightly acrimonious voice cry out indignantly:
"No, I think black is too dark. A bit mysterious and a sort of an evil, wicked tone to it, don't you think? I don't like it."
Sirius had heard it. Oh, yes, he had heard it. It's not like the boy had even tried to lower his voice. With a snarl, he had forcefully slammed the compartment door before striding back to James in a huff.
It had been later when they had been departing the train that Sirius had blatantly shoved the boy down the steps.
That's why he hates Remus Lupin.
Well. Maybe he doesn't hate him.
No, no, no, he does hate Lupin. But he doesn't hate observing the boy every once in a while. His curiosity always drives Sirius to give a glance or two or three or seven at the mysteriously intriguing scars on Lupin's skin. He finds himself wondering if he's scarred all over, and he's almost yearning to touch one of the scars, just to see what it feels like.
They're bad thoughts, especially when he's directing them to bloody Remus Lupin, someone he loathes with all of his might.
Even though he does find him a little bit attractive.
Sirius knows that even though James and him are like peas in a pod, he could never tell him anything like his small, tiny,unremarkable crush on the ever-so quiet boy. It's not that Remus is particularly gorgeous, wild, or anything like Sirius at all. But Sirius thinks that this is why he likes Lupin. He's quiet and there's so much mystery surrounding him. He's the exact opposite of Sirius and they could balance each other out nicely, and damn Sirius had never seen eyes like Lupin's. Or a shade of color like Lupin's hair.
This is why he knows he's gay. He notices unnoticeable and slightly effeminate things like tawny hair and brilliantly gold eyes.
"–just so judgmental." Is all that Remus hears as he clambers into the Portrait Hole the same time that James Potter and Sirius Black leave it. Remus ponders if Sirius is talking about him, but doesn't think about it much. However he does know that Sirius is staring daggers at his head in a fruitless attempt to burn a clean hole through it.
He's pretty much positive that rekindling the fire of a hopeful friendship has gone out way too long ago to attempt to keep alive. All that's left now is a bunch of burnt logs, crisp and angry hot to the touch.
Sirius Black doesn't like him, and Remus was fine with that.
They are not enemies. They are un-elevated acquaintances. Most of the boys in the house were. The only boys that had really made a friendship close enough to be bosom-buddies were James and Sirius, along with a slightly annoying tag-along Peter Pettigrew. Remus doesn't even know when he popped up.
Sirius Black is a man of action, not words.
James would disagree. He would say that Sirius Black is a boy of action, and not words.
But the action and the words part of the statement is undeniable. Even someone who doesn't know him at all, like bloody judgmental Remus Lupin, would be able to confirm that.
The first night at Hogwarts, Sirius had sent a clean and nasty punch straight at Severus Snape when he had heard him murmuring to Lucius Malfoy about Sirius' family. Something about "Isn't he Orion's son?" and "Why isn't he in Gryffindor? All Blacks are born baddies." and that's when Sirius had politely excused himself from one of James' endless stories about Quidditch, pursed his lips grimly, and given Snape a crackling punch straight in the face before he was pulled back into the Sorting Line by James.
And of course, given a hell of a lot of praise from James and most of the Gryffindors.
Except for Remus Lupin, who had profusely sent disapproving looks in Sirius' direction, who had coolly ignored them all.
But the moral of the story is…
Sirius Black could kick your ass.
He wasn't articulated or particularly well spoken with his words, but if he was having a heated argument with a too-smart-for-his-own-good guy who was sending impressive, copious, and all in all unpronounceable words in his direction, it wouldn't be hard for Sirius to end it quickly with a fast kick or hit.
So come with your dictionaries and vocabulary stocked minds, but Sirius Black will beat you every time.
One clean smack across the face with the dictionary.
How's that for using your resources?
Remus Lupin is a man of words and not action.
Remus would have to disagree with himself. He wasn't really a man.
All right, he wasn't a man at all.
It's unorthodox. He would rip himself to shreds and tear his skin to nothing when he would be transforming into the wolf, but he would bruise like a peach. A kick in the shin and Remus is down like a lifeless couch pillow.
He uses his words.
Remus' vocabulary and terminology is very enhanced and remarkable for his age.
But best of all, he knows where to hit. He knows how to insult people, and what to say to make them cringe and hit just the right spot. It would be particularly easy to get Sirius Black loose his cool, especially since he had gotten so heated at the train after such a simple and innocuous comment.
And when he needs it, Remus' knuckles are pretty rough too.
Remus shuffles in to Potions wearily, clutching at his bandaged elbow and steadying his books in the other arm. Groaning, he drops them maladroitly on the table and rubs at his arm soothingly as it protests in pain at the strain of the weight.
Sirius Black sends him a glare.
"You're late," he hisses, venom dripping from his words.
"I was in the hospital wing." Remus murmurs weakly, and instead of hearing the expected cry of disbelief, he looks over to see Sirius scowl at him inquisitively. Remus looks the other way.
"Why? You don't look sick."
"I felt sick." Remus snaps back. He's not in the mood to fight with Sirius Black. Hell, he's not in the mood to fight with a flobberworm, despite the fact that it would be incredibly humdrum and it would be clear who would win.
"Just asking you a question, Lupin." Sirius says loftily.
Remus slides his bag off of his aching shoulder and gives a quick glance to the instructions on the board.
The ingredients are all sparse and almost all gone by the time Remus limps on over to the cupboard and searches through it for suitable products. Finally, with a sigh, he wobbles back to his table and begins chopping up his items.
It's then that he notices that his cauldron is bubbling cantankerously at him, hissing at the bottom and gurbling noisily at the top. Remus prods at the fire with his stick, but it hisses even more lividly. Giving a cross glare to the potion, Remus attempts to stir at it hopelessly when Sirius Black laughs, the sound booming, at the condition of Remus' spitting potion.
"It's looking lovely, Lupin." he comments sardonically, tossing an imperious look at the failing potion. Remus sighs.
"Shut up, Black."
"Tell that to your potion."
Remus sighs again, looking deplorably at the state of his potion. It's riling up to be a rather noisy performance of the bubbling cauldron. Remus flicks his wand at the flame, willing it to go out, but it doesn't. Remus curses softly underneath his breath.
"I don't need your offensive jokes." Remus says acidly. His voice is slightly pleading as he wills the other boy to let it go.
"I don't need your offensive judges, Lupin!" Sirius stands up angrily from his chair. It falls over a second too late, the melodramatic scene becoming interrupted by the gauche clunk of the chair falling over.
"Judges?" Remus repeats incredulously.
"Bastard!" Sirius accuses loudly, flaring his nostrils.
"You really are a Black–" Remus mutters, but he doesn't get to finish his sentence as Sirius lunges forward, roughly grabs onto the werewolf's shirt, and punches him squarely in the jaw.
Remus stumbles back and clutches his chin as his vision wobbles unsteadily in and out of focus. Sirius goes to swing at his face another time, but Remus ducks.
Of all the things Sirius is expecting, he doesn't expect Remus to hit back.
And forcefully too.
With a roar, Sirius aims his fist again for the other boy's stomach. And then the fight is over, because Remus sinks to the ground as fast as a rock falling from a roof.
The drama is drawn to a sudden stop. Some students gasp, and some stand up from their desks to see what has happened oh-so histrionically. The only person who's still working and hasn't left their cauldron is Severus Snape.
Immediately, murmurs of murder and other appallingly rash things break out between the students like buzzing bees, and this arouses the Professor enough to hush them shortly and stomp over to Remus.
The teacher sends a glare to Sirius, mumbling things like 'scars' and 'morning after a rough night' as she discreetly examines the damage to Remus' stomach. All Sirius gets is a glimpse of a thick white pad and a gash of blood.
He would have passed out too, if he would have been punched there.
As if all of the pain from Lupin's hit was finally rushing to Sirius' slowly comprehending brain, Sirius gingerly brushed his fingers against his bleeding nose.
"Mr. Black, bring him to the hospital now! And take care of that nose of yours!" the Professor barks, unceremoniously dumping the limp Lupin into Sirius' unsuspecting arms. Sirius finds that Lupin is as light as he looks, and so Sirius hurries off to the hospital wing with no comprehension of what the hell just happened.
He's never had a fight before where it was uncertain whether he won or lost.
When Remus wakes up, something's not right.
Yes, yes, the hospital wing.
He was already in here this morning.
Why was he here again?
Remus blinks. His stomach hurts. Remus twitches his head. His stomach hurts. He moves a toe. His stomach is about to burst into pieces.
He supposes it's not the best idea to get into a bruising fight with all mighty Sirius Black right after his transformation. A beat in the stomach was definitely predictable, and Remus had done nothing to stop it.
Remus groans. His vision blurs in and out, finally focusing on the small, and delicate stained-glass window on the wall.
"Hey, you all right?" a familiar voice mumbles from the bed next to him.
Remus snaps his head left. His stomach hurts.
"Ow," he moans, and rubs at his ribs tenderly. He stares into the slightly guilty face of Sirius Black. Remus' lips take a u-turn. "What are you doing here?"
Sirius points at a thin bandage covering his nose. "The bandage may look small, but it hurts like hell." He shrugs, giving a sideways glance at the tawny-haired boy.
"Did you… did you bring me in here?"
"Yeah," Sirius responds lightly, "which reminds me, what in heaven's name do you eat, Lupin? Feathers?"
Remus chuckles silently, staring at his lap. He softly caresses the stiff hospital wing linen sheets.
"I'm just… naturally weak."
"Bull!" Sirius cries from the other bed, "you have a quite a fist there, Lupin!"
"Yeah? You do too." Remus clutches helplessly at his stomach, imploringly looking at Sirius as though waiting for an apology.
Sirius gives it to him. "I'm sorry for that, Lupin."
Remus nods understandingly. "I'm sorry for your…" he points lackadaisically at Sirius' nose, "nose."
Sirius crawls out from the sheets, walking over to the werewolf and gently sitting on the edge of the bed.
"You know what, Lupin? You're… you're not so bad." Sirius admits quietly.
Remus chuckles at his lap. "Thanks. And – I want you to know, Black–"
"Sirius," Sirius corrects quickly.
Remus nods. "I want you to know, Sirius, that I don't judge you. I never did. I don't even know who the Black family is and I was just talking about the color black with Bertha Jorkins when you walked in on us the other day at the train–"
Sirius holds up a hand to stop him. "Wait, what? The color black–?"
Remus nods feverishly, "Sirius, I never judged you, it's just – a misunderstanding. I – I don't like picking out fights."
He emphasizes his point by giving an imploring stare at his stomach. Black puts a hand on his shoulder lightly. It's a tingling touch, almost forbidden in the way it's unexplored territory.
"Remus… would… well, I would like it if we could be friends…?" he trails off inquiringly, a hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
Remus smiles hesitantly. "I would like that." He extends his hand as a peace offering, a handshake to new beginnings and start-overs, but Sirius goes for the gusto and envelops the frail boy in a hug, crushing Remus' hand against his chest.
"This'll be fun."
AN: This is for IdOnTwAnTyOuToSeEmEcRy who asked for Remus and Sirius not starting out as friends in the train, with a hint of foreshadowing Remus/Sirius. Personally, it's fun to write Remus and Sirius punching each other. –giggles– Send in more requests as there's still time:D