Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, professional heroes of the Wizarding World

TW: grief/mourning; suicidal thoughts; suicide attempt; depression; past child abuse; past drug feeding (Veritaserum); torture; violence; violent death; physical pain; emotional pain; guilt; self-sacrifice.

Parts written entirely in italics are flashbacks.

Professor Slughorn points to a cauldron full of a potion from whose surface the steam rises in the form of spirals. Remus swallows noisily looking at Lily, who slides a hand under their desk to tighten around Remus' fingers, in the attempt to provide him comfort.
«Can anyone tell me what this potion is named?» the Professor asks, looking at each student in the eye before stopping on Lily, and his face softens «Evans»
Lily clears her throat and lets go of Remus's hand, whose look is now fixed on Sirius' back: if Slughorn asks him what does the Amortentia smells like to him, he'll be doomed because—fuck, because all he can smell is Sirius, Sirius, Sirius. Only bloody Sirius Black.
«This is Amortentia, Professor, or the most powerful love filter ever brewed: it smells differently according to the tastes and preferences of the person with which it interacts, to take the aroma of what attracts them most. Amortentia creates a strong infatuation or even a romantic obsession but, of course, cannot create true love, as it is impossible to artificially recreate.»
«Thank you, Lily. Ten points for Gryffindor. Well, now, who wishes to tell me what does the potion smell like to them?»
Remus tries to shrink and become the smallest possible, while «yes, Miss Meadows?» Slughorn calls, approaching Dorcas who gives a meticulous description of a smell - Fleetwood polish, strawberry shampoo and new scroll - that Remus knows perfectly to be the scent of Marlene McKinnon who, when she's not playing Quidditch, spends all her free time writing poems. Shit, there's no escape today.
Remus thinks that if he doesn't make up something he will end up confessing to the entire class that he's in love with Sirius but, at the very moment he's about to think of a plausible lie «Mister Lupin?» the Professor calls, and immediately everyone's eyes focus on him. Remus breathes - big mistake, because Sirius' scent is killing him - and then «cinnamon» he mutters, while his eyes find the floor and he is about to add cologne and—wind ? because he couldn't possibly express the last smell with actual words except for the very same word he thought of, but Slughorn raises a finger in his direction and «oh» mutters apologetically «the time at our disposal is over. We will continue next time» and Remus almost wants to jump with joy because, fuck, he's been spared, but the unpleasant feeling of being stared at makes him look up just to find Sirius' eyes glancing at him doubtfully. Remus hastens to put away his things and then runs away.

Describe the characteristic aroma that Amortentia assumes for you.
Sirius gazes the next question of his homework for long minutes, thinking about the possibility of writing this part later, after dinner, in the darkness of his canopy or maybe in Minnie's office: inevitably, the Potions class in which Slughorn introduced Amortentia comes to Sirius' mind—he remembers Remus' pink cheeks when he had to tell the whole class what the love potion smelled like to him. Cinnamon. Sirius, on his shelf inside the cabinet where he, James, Remus and Peter store bathroom products, has a bottle of cinnamon bubble bath. And then he thinks of what the Amortentia smells like to him - a forest, fresh ink, vanilla - and he doesn't need to ask himself who these fragrances belong to, because he already knows. The set of those three aromas makes up Remus' scent, who's sitting next to Sirius right now, bending over his homework just like he is. And Sirius knows that it is wrong to, but he cannot refrain from peeking up his scroll, and what sees completely shocks him: Remus has just finished writing the words cinnamon, vanilla and wind.
Sirius rises abruptly from his chair, murmurs a bunch of hasty excuses in response to the confused glances his friends give him, and rushes to Minerva's office.
«Cinnamon, cologne and wind.»
The look that Minnie gives him is confused, as if she didn't understand, and this gets slightly on Sirius' nerves because «Minnie» he adds with a note of exasperation in the voice as «cinnamon, cologne and wind» he repeats once again, more slowly than before, as if those few words could explain everything. But Minerva «I think I'll need a little help here» admits, leaning forward, and then Sirius is forced to «my bubble bath is cinnamon-scented» explicate impatiently «I use Cologne water; and, when I get back from Quidditch practice, I smell of wind because I kinda rode a broom for hours»
«So you're telling me that Remus is in love with you?»
«I honestly hoped that you would help me understand that»
«I see. May I ask you what Amortentia smells like, to you?»
Sirius blushes suddenly and clears his throat loudly «why are you asking me?»
«Simple curiosity, I'm sorry»
«To me—ah, Minnie, it smells like—like Remus—I mean, like a forest, fresh ink and vanilla, to me. But it was nothing new»
«You never admitted that—»
«Minnie» Sirius sighs, and now he just sounds tired «think—just imagine what my parents would think, right now. An imperfect son, the first Gryffindor in the family, who despises the Dark Arts and their purist theories, who turns out to be gay and falls in love not only with a werewolf but also a half-blood?»
«Since, despite the thousands of times I've already spoken these exact words to you before, they still don't seem to stick with you, I'll just tell you one more time: what your mother and father believe—»
«But it's not just them! How many homosexual wizards do you know, proudly walking down the street hand in hand with their partners?»
«None, but—»
«And how many Muggles are homosexuals and aren't likely to be arrested every other day as well?»
«How would I know—»
«This» Sirius pauses briefly as if to put his thoughts in order «is a sentence—»
«Sirius—» Minerva's gaze is sharp as a knife when she speaks again, filled with the lively flicker of anger «it's the fucking Seventies»
The woman suddenly chuckles watching Sirius' face twist into a shocked grimace «Minnie!»
«I said fucking, yeah, I'm perfectly aware of that. Just because I don't go around swearing all day doesn't mean I can't.»
«I can't believe it» Sirius goes on in shock, and it's such a comic vision that Minerva has to gather all her strength not to laugh in his face «this day will go down in history—I mean, twenty years from now we will be celebrating the day Minerva McGonagall said fucking, and it's all thanks to me»
«Oh, spare me! Why do you keep wanting to avoid the point? Sirius, when did you ever care about people's judgment? Weren't you the one who, as a first year, proudly showed up wearing Gryffindor colours at his house's front door on the first occasion? And weren't you the one who became friends with Remus, the one who went out of his way to integrate him into his group, despite all the teachings on the matter received from your family?» Minerva stops for a moment, looking him straight in the eye and then squeezing one of the hands he had previously rested on the desk between them «wasn't it you who told me that Remus is a werewolf and then, at the slightest sign of yielding I showed in spite of myself, reproached me because I shouldn't have been prejudiced against him, because his nature didn't change at all the beautiful soul he is? Are these your words or not?»
Sirius runs a hand through his hair, thinking about the words she just spoke, and starting to intertwine and then untie his and Minerva's fingers rhythmically, as if this helped him concentrate «those are my words, yeah, but—»
«So, what's changed now?»
«My mother threatened to disown me, and I know she will, sooner rather than later. If only to have Regulus inherit everything since they've always bet on him, and surely the practicality of this gesture is not the main reason why she wants to do it, and—Remus is already an outcast without me dragging him down—he deserves fucking better—»
«Better than someone loving him with all their heart?» Minerva scoffs «and, besides, I think you're getting a little ahead of yourself, honey. Who's keeping you from working and living among Muggles, for example? Not even one of them knows that The Ancient And Most Noble House Of Black is an actual thing, let alone werewolves. They don't even know what a Pureblood is, to be honest. Sirius, mo leannán, you need to understand that there are things in life that are more important than others: would you rather have money, glory and fame or come home from work in the evening and find the person you love there, waiting for you? I know it's hard to imagine such a thing now that it's wartime, but—the things your parents think, and Voldemort too, aren't true. You should live one day at a time, sure, but also think about when hopefully there will be no war anymore, when Voldemort and his followers will be gone or in a clear minority compared to us, and ask yourself: what do I want from this life? What do I value more?»
Sirius sighs, and then a smile crosses his lips «when you put it like this—»
«I do because this is what real life is, mo leannán, Even though the opinion of others seems significant, the most important thing is your happiness. If Remus makes you happy, if Remus is your soulmate, then he's the one you should choose. I can't assure you that things will be easy for you, but—look at me, for example. I never got married, did you know that? I've never married the person I love because I've always feared that he, and our marriage, could threaten my career. And I—I would love to know what your future is, Sirius, believe me, but—when I get back to my apartments, here at the castle, what do I have? Just my job»
«Minnie» Sirius whispers, amazed, speechless, and it is as if entire speeches were condensed into that single name, but then their eyes meet and Sirius «I love you, you know? This—you—are so precious to me. Thank you so much, I—I don't know where I would be, today, now, without your words»
Minerva just tightens her grip on Sirius' fingers, smiling at him encouragingly «maybe not today, not tomorrow, but—tell him, Sirius. Don't be scared, don't let your fear keep you grounded when you could just fly.»