Falling // Wolfstar

Thirty

"No. No!"

Remus snaps his eyes open at the abrupt sound. The clock in front of him ticks by another minute displaying the time of 6:14. Shuffling noises and quiet murmuring occur from the floor and Remus remembers that he's not in the dorm. Quietly, he crawls to the end of the bed and peers over.

Sirius is half-asleep, rustling around with his blanket pooled at his feet.

"Sirius," Remus whispers.

"Please stop."

"Sirius!"

Sirius's body jolts awake. His heartbeat is skyrocketing and his palms are sweaty. He looks up to see Remus' frame hovering over the edge of the bed staring down at him. "Oh - I'm sorry," he says with jagged breaths. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

Remus rests his chin on the footboard. "Are you okay?"

"No I'm fine, just a bad dream is all."

"Do you get those often?"

Sirius brings his knees up to his chest with a nonchalant shrug. "Not too often. Anymore." He picks at his nails, unable to look at the boy directly. 

"Y-you can sleep up here if you want."

"No that's alright."

"I insist."

Sirius finally faces Remus. His eyes are barely open - it looks as if he's about to fall asleep on the spot - and his hair is pushed out in all sorts of directions. It's adorably cute in every way.

"Alright," Sirius finally agrees.

He scoops up his blanket and pillow, walking around to the other side of the bed. The mattress dips slightly when he climbs into bed. He lays at the very edge of the bed and makes sure to stay there as not to make Remus uncomfortable.

Remus falls back into his spot, burying himself in the comforter. When he closes his eyes, he doesn't see darkness, but the same ceiling he's stared at since he was eleven. Slowly, he moves his head around to count all for posts of the Gryffindor bed surrounding him. Beside him is Sirius. They're laying together. His appearance looks as if he'd seen a ghost. Another nightmare, perhaps. Remus goes to move his arm when he notices that their hands are intertwined.

Sirius's thumb slowly rubs circles over his hand. They get slower and slower until it eventually stops. His breathing steadies in a peaceful rhythm. Remus stares at his hand. It falls perfectly into Sirius'. Like they were made to fit together.

Remus tightens his hold on Sirius' hand, but grasps nothing but air. His hand falls onto the bed of the Three Broomsticks and he's brought back to reality. He shifts his head every so slightly to see Sirius curled up on the bed as far as can be with his black hair fanned out on the pillow elegantly. With one last look, Remus pulls the covers over his shoulder and falls back asleep.

*

*

*

Frances makes her way back from Ancient Runes when a loud chorus of laughter and various voices can be heard. A large group of students her age are gathered around, blocking the middle of the corridor. Other students squeeze past against the walls as nobody bothers to move aside. Frances groans, knowing she'll have to get past in order to make it on time for Transfiguration. She straightens her posture and prepares herself for battle.

As she approaches, a few heads turn her way.

"Oh look," Brie calls out. "She's changed her hair. Must've gotten tired of looking like a washed up rag doll."

The group shuffles around and Regulus is revealed in the center of it all. Everyone laughs but him. His hair is perfectly pushed back aside from a single wave that falls in front of his eyes. He stands like a king amongst the group and they cling to him like leeches; to them, his attention is equivalent to gold. Frances makes brief eye contact with him, but chooses not to give him more than a mere glance. Her focus is redirected to Zeta who stands right beside Regulus. She's practically draped over him. Her face resembles a pug in France's mind. "Please, she couldn't be pretty even if she tried."

"Excuse me," Frances mutters, pushing past two Slytherins in her way.

"Because you're some sort of goddess." The sarcasm slips from his mouth effortlessly.

Frances freezes when she hears him speak.

Zeta wipes the scowl from her face, pretending not to have heard his insult. "Does Regulus have a little crush on the dyke?" she teases.

Regulus' hands are in his pockets casually, neither confirming nor denying her taunts. His eyes are fixated on Frances. Though her back is to him, she can feel his gaze.

"Oh I think he does," another boy eggs on. "What would mummy and daddy say Reggie?"

"Maybe they're shagging," Lucy giggles.

Regulus rolls his eyes at their comments. "And what's it to you if we are?" he voice is deeper than usual with a defensive tone.

Frances' hand balls into a tight fist when she hears him. In an instant, she turns around with venom in her eyes. "I don't need you to defend me!" she snarls directly at Regulus. "I'm just some stupid little mudblood. At least, that's what the mark on your arm says, right?"

Regulus is taken back by her sudden outburst and the group falls silent.

Frances purses her lips; she gives Regulus a once-over, shooting daggers. "That's what I thought." She promptly turns back around, shoving Lisa Ward out of her way before anybody can say anything else.

As she turns the corner and is finally out of view, a smile breaks out onto her face. The hurt and pain she would've normally endured aren't there. Instead, she feels elated. The question that comes to mind is new. It's confident. It's empowering. She spent years wondering what a guy like Regulus Black would ever see in someone like her.

But really, what would a girl like Frances Berkshire see in a guy like Regulus Black?