Sirius starts a Glam rock band in Gryffindor Tower Seventh Year. Featuring cluelesshearthrob!James, fartooobservant!Peter, ridiculouslyglittery!Sirius, and I'mnotlooking!Remus.
Remus felt that he had prepared himself sufficiently for the sight of Sirius coming towards him on the platform. It was true that the absence of Sirius' presence had indeed made the heart grow fonder, but Remus' body at least seemed to have settled into relative dormancy. He took a deep breath, reminded himself for the four hundred and fifty-sixth time that morning that his physical attraction to Sirius last semester had been a phase and it was now over.
Peter was occupied with his parents, and James was fighting an over-piled and toppling trolley, so Remus was the only one paying attention as Sirius appeared through the gate of Platform 9 3/4. Sirius scanned the crowd, searching, and when his gaze met Remus’, an electric thrill ran through the werewolf.
Remus was utterly unprepared for the sight of Sirius coming towards him on the platform.
Sweet Merlin above, Sirius looks good, some part of Remus' brain announced as he stared, eyes locked with Sirius’. He would have been suppressing a lovesick sigh, but he couldn't breathe.
None of them had seen Sirius all summer, since he'd run away from home and hid out with his cousin Andromeda and her Muggle husband. Remus had expected him to look a little different, but he had not expected…this.
Sirius stopped in front of Remus, grinning, and was opening his mouth to say something when James finally noticed him.
“Good lord, man!” James exclaimed. “What’s on your face?!”
“Is that eyeliner?” Peter asked, jogging over and waving off his parents. “How on earth does Sirius manage to make eyeliner look masculine?”
“I think he should take it off, don’t you, Moony?” James elbowed Remus, who was suffering from full-body paralysis.
Remus wished very much that Sirius would do away with the eyeliner before the paralysis wore off, because as soon as his body shook off the torpor, he had a sinking suspicion that his little infatuation would be returning full force.
Somehow the others tugged Remus onto the train and into their compartment, no one noticing his silence as any different than his usual tranquility as James and Sirius expressed their happiness through roughhousing. In the midst of everything, Sirius told them about something that Muggles called ‘Glam’ and which seemed to be the explanation for the eyeliner, but Remus was having trouble concentrating on the words. He was too distracted by how wide and clear the eyeliner made Sirius' eyes look, and how his thick black hair was now brushing his shoulders.
It wasn’t until Lily had retrieved James for some Head Student meeting that Remus felt he could exert enough control over himself to actually speak to Sirius. Peter had pulled out a book and was trying to finish his summer homework, and Sirius was staring at Remus, a bemused expression on his face. He reached over and nudged Remus’ foot with his own. The brush of physical contact shot straight through Remus, and he resigned himself to another term of carrying around the unabridged version of Hogwarts, A History, the only tome that could plausibly hide his Sirius-induced erections.
“You’re quiet,” Sirius said. He grinned knowingly, and for a split second Remus worried that, along with the ability to melt Remus into a pile of goo at a hundred paces, Glam might have also endowed Sirius with psychic ability.
“It’s good to see you,” Remus replied, avoiding the question, blushing very faintly as he met Sirius’ eyes, and glad he had changed into his robes already. “We were worried.”
“We?” Sirius quirked an eyebrow.
“I was worried,” Remus admitted, suspicious about what Sirius was getting at. “James was just treating it like you were off on hols or something.”
“It was rather like a holiday,” Sirius shrugged. “I could’ve used some company though.”
Remus thought Sirius had nudged his foot again when he said that, but it might just have been the jostling of the train. Before Remus could reply, James was back, hollering at him to get to the Prefects’ car.
Remus glanced back at Sirius as he left the car, and Sirius gave a little wave with his fingertips. His lower body rebelliously doing a similar wave, Remus slid the door closed behind him.
* * * * * *
As it turned out, eyeliner was not the only thing Sirius had brought back from his summer with the Muggles.
“It’s an electric guitar,” Sirius announced to them proudly as he pulled the shiny thing out of his trunk.
“Electric?” Peter asked. “But electric things don’t work inside Hogwarts.”
“I’m meeting Arthur Weasley the first Hogsmead weekend,” Sirius explained. “He’s going to show me how to enchant it.”
Remus, sitting beside Sirius, reached over without thinking to stroke the side of the guitar. It was deep red and had a touch of iridescence in its sheen that glinted in the warm light of their room.
“It’s beautiful,” he told Sirius, and Sirius beamed, running his fingers up the frets and producing a metallic rasping.
“What’s it sound like?” James eyed the guitar suspiciously.
“I’ll show you, but,” Sirius warned, “it isn’t going to sound too impressive without a functional amplifier. That’s the bit I need Arthur to enchant.”
Remus withdrew his hand and Sirius strummed a few chords and plucked a few notes. Sirius was right, it wasn’t very impressive, but Remus didn’t think it deserved James and Peter’s hoots of laughter. Sirius, however, didn’t seem offended.
“You just wait,” was all he said as he tucked the guitar carefully back into his trunk. “After Arthur gets through with this thing, it’ll be able to blow McGonagall right out of Gryffindor Tower.”
* * * * * *
Remus was glad the first Hogsmead weekend was early this year, because he’d been dying to know what the shiny guitar was supposed to sound like after Sirius' continual mention of the thing. James and Peter remained uninterested and decided to go drool over Quidditch supplies, but Remus tagged along with Sirius to meet Arthur in the Three Broomsticks.
“She’s a beauty, all right!” Arthur whistled when Sirius produced the guitar from the Neverfull bag he had borrowed from James. The amplifier followed and tinkering ensued.
“How’s Molly and that brat of yours?” Sirius asked while they worked. “Not showing any Black tendencies, is it?”
“Bill’s getting huge,” Arthur replied with a laugh. “He’s talking all the time now, babbling like Dumbledore…and Molly’s more than halfway through producing another one!”
“Honestly, Arthur,” Sirius snorted. “Take a breather in between or Molly’s going to put a cork in you!”
Remus wondered if Sirius had any normal relatives at all. And exactly what part of Arthur Molly would cork. And if there was any chance of him tearing his eyes away from the flex of Sirius' arm muscles as he dug around the innards of the amplifier.
No, don't want to know, and no, Remus concluded grimly.
After half an hour, Arthur sat back in his chair and told Sirius to test it. Sirius pried the shiny plug out of Arthur's hand, then connected the amplifier to the guitar and strummed a test chord. The electric thrum that washed over Remus was an auditory version of catching Sirius’ eye on the train platform.
“Do it again,” Remus said before he could stop himself. Sirius looked at him questioningly, but Remus nodded firmly, barely managing not to blush.
Sirius strummed again, this time loud enough to make several people in the pub turn their heads, and Remus shivered gleefully.
It appeared he was going to like Glam after all. Rather more than he wanted to, in fact.
* * * * * *
In the weeks that followed, Sirius pulled out the guitar several times a week to practice in their room. At first he only practiced when he was alone or when Remus was the only one in the room. Sirius would sprawl across his bed and lazily pick out riffs from various songs on the Wizard Top 40; Remus would lay on his own bed with a book, pretending he was not affected in the slightest by the either Sirius or his guitar. Or his eyeliner. Or his jeans, which he had to be using a Shrinking Charm on.
Most of the time, Remus could have sworn Sirius was using a Shrinking Charm on his trousers as well.
Eventually James discovered the practicing, and it devolved into Sirius accompanying James’ loud rendition of “A Wizard’s Staff has a Knob on the End”, a pub song which James had once taught one of McGonagall's parrots to sing and subsequently been kicked out of Transfigurations for.
After James seemed to accept the guitar, Sirius was not as secretive about playing it, and besides his riffing and James’ crooning, sometimes Peter would launch into an impromptu fevered drum solo, which usually ended up with him tumbling off his desk chair and snapping at least one of the quills he was using.
“Do you want to learn?” Sirius asked Remus abruptly one night when they happened to be alone in the room.
“Me?” Remus asked, startled.
“I know you like it,” Sirius coaxed. “I’ll teach you a few chords if you want, it’s really easy.”
Remus set down his book and slid to the edge of the bed, torn between desire and the knowledge that this was a Bad Idea.
“I don’t think I’d be any good,” he said dubiously.
“You’ll love it,” Sirius said firmly. “Come on, Moony, get over here.”
Giving in with a sigh, Remus climbed out of his own bed and sat down on Sirius’. Sirius slipped the guitar’s strap off his shoulder and dropped it over Remus’ head. The smooth weight of the guitar felt good in Remus' hands, and he gave a test strum of the strings, smiling self-consciously at the not-quite-discordant sound it produced.
“What do I do?” he asked.
“Well,” Sirius moved some of Remus’ fingers around, “It’s like…damn, that’s not right…hell, I can’t do it backwards. Hold on.”
Remus could hear his heart pounding in his ears as Sirius shifted over to sit on his knees behind him and reached around to put his hands over top Remus’. Remus was painfully aware of Sirius’s Quidditch muscles pressing into his back and arms, and stifled a giggle as he recalled a lewd comment James had made about how Sirius kept those muscles in shape during the off-season.
"He's not called a Beater for nothing," James had snickered.
Sirius repositioned Remus’ fingers in the right places a little awkwardly. Remus tried subtly to take a deep breath to steady his nerves, but even the air was suddenly tinged with Sirius-ness, and Remus had to bite his lip to keep from making a soft noise of pleasure. He was reluctantly relieved when Sirius leaned back and said,
“There, try that.”
Thankful to concentrate on the guitar rather than look Sirius in the eye, Remus brushed the strings lightly, and only half of them sounded. He tried again with more confidence, and this time a recognizable chord hummed forth.
Remus discovered that if the sound of the guitar made him shiver, the feel of the guitar vibrating with the chord was nearly unbearable. He swallowed hard, trying to keep his excitement in the ‘acceptable’ range. It was clearly a losing battle.
Sirius, if he noticed Remus’ reaction, didn’t respond to it. He leaned forward again to move Remus’ still-buzzing fingers around some more. Sirius rested his chin on Remus' shoulder to get a better look, and Remus' neck felt like it was burning where Sirius' breath slid over it.
“Give that one a go,” Sirius murmured, not sitting back this time.
Remus, senses completely overloaded, had no choice but to obey.
* * * * * *
In the cold shower that Remus’ first electric guitar lesson necessitated, Remus was finally forced to admit that at some point he had acquired an intense physical passion for his best friend, which matched his already questionable emotional attachment alarmingly well.
He had no idea whether it was the guitar or the eyeliner or just Sirius, or the inescapable combination of all three, but whatever it was, Remus’ response to the ‘hands-on’ teaching method Sirius was employing had produced an even stronger reaction than usual, one which was not taking its leave with the speed to which Remus was accustomed.
“I like GIRLS,” Remus reminded his erection harshly. It seemed to shake its head, and Remus blinked water out of his eyes.
The truth was that Remus never really HAD liked a girl, at least not any one in particular more than the others. They were sweet and pretty and they smelled nice and all…
…but none of them had ever ‘made the wand shoot sparks’, as James so eloquently put it.
“I'm sick of your surprise visits!” Remus grumbled to the offending member. "Why don't you go back to where you came from!" The problem seemed likely to go nowhere without manual assistance. Remus was not entirely opposed.
“But this doesn’t mean I don’t like girls,” he told his erection firmly.
Whatever it was about to retort, Remus choked off the reply mercilessly.
* * * * * *
"You're getting pretty good," Sirius said to Remus two weeks later. Remus blushed faintly and ducked his head, fully aware that Sirius always watched him intently when he played. Remus had actually picked up the chords quickly, but had feigned confusion for several more tries so that Sirius would continue to press against him for instruction. He finally had to stop when Peter asked him why his fingertips were so pruney all the time.
"I'm only doing chords," Remus protested the compliment, still strumming a few strings lightly. He was trying very hard not to be aware that he could smell Sirius' orange-flavored lip gloss, and was more than halfway through forgetting that orange was his favorite flavor.
"Perfectly respectable," Sirius brushed aside his self-deference. "Make a good bass player." Sirius hmmed thoughtfully.
"What?" Remus stopped brushing the guitar strings and narrowed his eyes. "What are you plotting?"
"Nothing," Sirius waved him off, but a smirk played about his citrus-scented lips.
Remus' suspicions deepened on the following day when he found Sirius reading a book titled So You Want to Transfigure Yourself a Rock Band.
"No," Remus told him.
"No what?" Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow. Remus refused to be distracted by the eyeliner for once.
"What do you mean, 'no what'?" Remus demanded. "You're reading a book called So You Want to Transfigure Yourself a Rock Band and you have the gall to ask me 'no what'?"
"I'm just reading it," Sirius sounded a bit sulky as he reburied his nose in the book, but Remus noticed his lips twitching. Remus noticed a familiar twitch on his own person as well, but lower down.
"Huh," Remus snorted, flopping down on Sirius' bed beside him. "Last time you were 'just reading' I ended up with black dog hairs covering my bed!"
"Did it make you happy?" Sirius asked, sneaking a look over top his book.
"You know it did," Remus grumbled, trying to ignore the way Sirius' knee was touching his side, heat radiating out from even that simple contact. "But that's not the point…"
"Poor Moony," Sirius commiserated insincerely. "Such awful friends you have. On an unrelated note, how would you like to be in my rock band?"
"I KNEW it!" Remus exclaimed, leaning up on one elbow. Sirius stared back up into his eyes with his usual infuriatingly hot smile, and Remus wondered for a split second what would happen if he simply threw his body on top of Sirius' and let nature take its course.
"Knew what?" James asked as he came into the room and collapsed onto his own bed. Peter trailed along after him and sat on the edge of James' bed.
"Sirius is Transfiguring himself a rock band," Remus informed them, rolling his eyes. He flopped back down on his back and stared at the hangings above Sirius' bed, trying to remember how it had felt to not constantly battle his own body.
"Instruments," Sirius corrected Remus' sarcastic comment, sitting up and setting down the book. "I still need people to play them. What do you say?"
"Why're you asking me?" James shrugged. "I don't play anything."
"Aha," Sirius grinned, "but you don't have to in order to be our heartthrob lead vocalist!"
"Heartthrob, you say?" James raked a hand through his hair. "I like the sound of that!"
"Not you too," Remus covered his face with his hands.
"And Wormtail," Sirius turned to Peter, "I've seen you walloping the desk with your quills. How'd you like to have a go at a real set of drums?"
"Er," Peter looked unsure.
"Peter, no," Remus tried to dissuade him, sitting up. "Don't let them talk you into this."
"I'd love it," Peter answered. All three of them turned to stare at Remus.
"C'mon, Moony," Sirius nudged his thigh with a knee. "I'm short a bass player."
"No!" Remus glared at all of them. "I'm not encouraging this ridiculousness. And I'm not any good anyways."
"Don't be so modest," Sirius encouraged. "I know you love the guitar, I've seen you at it. And someone's got to organize this lot with me, James is only window-dressing."
"Oi!" James protested, but neither Sirius nor Remus looked at him. Remus was clearly wavering.
Maybe, a small voice in Remus' head wheedled, if everyone else is doing Glam too, it won't be so distracting when Sirius does it. Remus wondered when his inner voice had defected to Sirius' side of this battle.
"Please, Moony?" Sirius nudged him again, more gently this time. "This is our last year, we should do something great! It'll be like our last hurrah."
"Oh, all right," Remus sighed, giving Sirius a small smile. Sirius beamed and reached over to ruffle Remus' hair. Remus pushed him away good-naturedly and ignored the way his scalp was prickling.
"Excellent!" Sirius rubbed his hands together and picked up the book again. "Now we just need a few small items…"
* * * * * *
"Hey, it worked!" James looked surprised.
"Now there's a ringing endorsement," Sirius snorted, slipping his wand back into his pocket before examining the drum set they had just made out of some 'donated' cauldrons. Remus didn't consider the drums nearly as hard as he did the way Sirius' eyes scrunched up when he concentrated.
"Padfoot," James gave him a playful shove, "if you can tell me with a straight face that you expected to make serviceable instruments out of a hairbrush, a broom, and 6 cauldrons of variant sizes and metals, I'll bugger Snivellus."
"Sod off," Sirius laughed, pushing James back.
"How are we going to hide this from the roommates?" Remus interrupted, irrationally jealous that James got to wrestle with Sirius. "I mean, this is a secret, right?" Although there was no real reason why it should be, James and Sirius usually insisted on secrecy until they knew where a particular project was going.
"Course it is," James answered immediately. "Everything good is a secret."
"Absolutely, Prongsy." Sirius flashed a smile to Remus, who again wondered when Sirius had learned to read minds. He ducked his head to cover his unease and pretended to examine his bass that had lately been a well-worn school broom.
"Stop calling me that, I've warned you," James snapped, completely oblivious to the exchange between his friends.
"We could store them at the Shack," Peter suggested hesitantly. "If you don't mind, Remus."
"We could practice there too," Sirius considered, casting a sidelong glance at the werewolf. "It's up to you, Moony."
Remus looked at the rock band implements uncertainly. Spending more time in that place than he had to usually gave Remus the creeps, but if they were all together…
"We don't have to," Sirius interrupted his thoughts quietly. "We can find someplace else."
"No," Remus shook his head. "It's the best place. It's fine."
Sirius, James, and Peter grinned excitedly and Remus answered with a more reserved smile. It would be fine, eventually.
"But how do we get them there?" Peter asked.
"Hmm," Sirius scratched his head. "That's a good question."
* * * * * *
They managed to sneak their ragtag rock implements to the Shack largely without incident, although one of Peter's drums changed back to a cauldron unexpectedly and nearly broke Sirius' foot. Several nights a week they would slip away in the middle of the night and bang away at their instruments. Rumors about the poltergeist in the Shrieking Shack flew fast and thick in the village, and during their first Hogsmead weekend James and Peter could barely get a word around their snickers. Sirius just grinned and winked at Remus, and Remus told himself firmly that the warmth flooding his body was from the Butterbeer as he smiled back.
Several days later, Sirius marched into the Common Room where the others were studying and slapped some sheets of parchment down on the table, glaring at the other Marauders as though daring them to make fun of him.
"What's this?" James asked, picking up the top sheet.
"It's a song," Remus answered for Sirius as he got a good look at another sheet. For once, the personal affection overcame the constant lust, and he smiled up at Sirius. "You wrote a song, Padfoot."
"I wrote a song," Sirius affirmed, still sounding a bit suspicious of their reactions.
"Can we try it tonight?" Peter asked, already tapping out a rhythm with his fingertips on the desktop.
"Of course we're trying it tonight," James said with authority. Sirius relaxed visibly, and Remus, still looking up at him, caught his eye without meaning to. Remus' heart skipped a beat as he realized he'd been caught staring, but Sirius didn't look away, his blue eyes seeming even more intense than usual, and Remus felt the lust come crashing back, making it hard to breathe.
"Sirius?" James asked loudly, breaking the spell. Sirius blinked and turned to James, and Remus stared down at the parchment he was holding, hands shaking slightly. "I asked," James was saying, "if that was all right with you?"
"If what's all right with me?" Sirius's voice was a bit vague.
"If we had a go at your song tonight!" James snapped in irritation. "I've asked you three times now, did you overload your brain writing this or what?!"
Sirius answered by shoving James off his chair. James grabbed at Sirius' robes on the way down and they both tumbled to the floor, wrestling furiously.
Remus had forgotten not to stare again, and Peter tapped his shoulder.
"You feeling all right?" he asked, and Remus shook himself.
"I'm fine," he said quickly, cursing his inability to like girls and not Sirius for more than a few seconds in a row. Peter, unconvinced, watched Remus several moments longer.
Several minutes later, while Peter and James were occupied fixing James' glasses, Sirius leaned over to Remus.
"I need your help with lyrics," he said in a low voice that made the hair on the back of Remus' neck raise.
"Me?" Remus blinked. "Why?"
"Because mine are ridiculous," Sirius replied bluntly. "And you write poetry, that's the same as lyrics."
"No!" Remus was shaken by the sudden revelation that his other secret hobby was not-so-secret. "I don't…I…"
"Don't lie about it, I've seen you at it," Sirius interrupted. "So will you?"
"You read my stuff!" Remus finally managed, voice sharp as he tried frantically to remember whether he'd written anything incriminating lately.
"Yeah, some of it," Sirius admitted, at least looking sheepish about it. "You left that notebook you're always scribbling in on your bed and I took a peek…are you mad?"
Remus was angry, then wasn't, and changed his mind twice more before just asking Sirius what he'd thought about it.
"Clearly I liked it," Sirius rolled his eyes, "if I'm asking for your help now."
"I'll help then," Remus flushed, something in his stomach unknotting at Sirius' acceptance of the poetry. "Padfoot…thanks for not making fun of me." And hopefully for not seeing that ode to your ass I wrote after catching you in the showers the other week…
"It would be a poor way to get your help, even I have enough tact for that," Sirius replied dryly, but he grinned a little. He leaned in to whisper conspiratorially. "It is a bit poncy though."
Remus let out a mock-indignant howl and tackled Sirius, glad to finally have an excuse to get his hands on Sirius, the more violently full-contact, the better. Sirius fell backwards in surprise and hadn't fully recovered before Remus had him pinned to the ground.
"I win," Remus announced, breathing harder than he should have been.
"That's not fair," Sirius whined in a low voice. "You're a werewolf, after all!"
"Too bad for you," Remus smirked, and pushed down harder with his wiry frame when Sirius started to struggle. Sirius' whine had evoked some primal instinct in him, something that made him want to crush Sirius beneath him into the carpet and force him to beg…
All at once, Remus froze, the gist of what his lower brain was demanding finally coming the attention of his intellect. He rolled off Sirius quickly, hoping in the scuffle he'd noticed nothing amiss, and busied himself gathering his stuff into his schoolbag.
"I'm going to finish this up in the library," he announced loudly without looking at anybody. He deliberately positioned the bag in front of his betraying bulge. "I'll see you tonight for practice."
Remus was the whole way out the door and down the first staircase before Sirius caught him. Remus nearly jumped out of his skin when the warm hand closed on his wrist.
"Hey," Sirius was breathing a bit hard from the chase and hair had flopped into his eyes; it took all of Remus' willpower not to reach up and smooth the hair back. "When do you want to talk about…you know."
Remus, distracted by the faint embarrassed blush on Sirius' cheeks and the way he was biting his lower lip, took a minute to realize he was talking about the lyrics again.
"We can sneak out of dinner early," Remus finally said. "If we both get our homework done now, that is."
"Oh, Moony," Sirius laughed lightly, making Remus' skin prickle. "So conscientious."
Just then, footsteps rang out on the top of the staircase they were standing beside, and with a practiced motion, Sirius pushed Remus into the space under the staircase, pressing in beside him tightly. Remus bit down on the moan Sirius' nearness caused, but some of the sound escaped in a hissed breath.
"Padfoot," Remus whispered as the footsteps pounded over their heads, "we're not doing anything secret!" Remus tried to pull away from Sirius, aware that if he did not stop seeing and smelling and touching Sirius in the next few seconds, lines were going to be crossed. Bad lines, ones with capital 'L's'.
"Force of habit." Sirius tightened his grip and moved closer. Remus pushed against him harder and encountered the last thing he wanted to, pressing into his upper thigh so that there could be no mistake about what it was.
Sirius was hard as a rock. Every single rational thought mass-exodussed out of Remus' head and he looked up into Sirius' too-close eyes before he could stop himself. Sirius was staring back down at him with a surprised expression. They remained frozen that way for several more heartbeats as the oblivious students above them pattered down the last few steps and into the next corridor. Sirius didn't move immediately, and Remus was unable to entirely swallow the low warning growl in the back of his throat.
Sirius shook himself a little before slipping out of the space they were pressed into. He hurried up the stairs without looking at Remus again, only tossing a quick "See you at dinner" over his shoulder as he left.
Remus remained frozen where he was for quite some time, so hard it was painful and trying desperately to come up with another explanation for Sirius' arousal than the Obvious Yet Really Bad one.
By the time he got to the library, Remus had come up with several plausible explanations:
1. Sirius was merely reacting to the physical friction of two consecutive wrestling matches.
2. Sirius was randomly hard. It happened.
3. Sirius wanted James.
All of those are perfectly reasonable, Remus told himself fiercely as he snapped his second quill in a row trying to restart his essay. Nothing is different here. There is no cause for alarm.
Remus bit down on his lip hard and tried to shake the sound of Sirius' soft whine from his ears.
More to come this afternoon!