No Promises | Wolfstar AU

Two

The first lesson for sixth year is Potions. And so, on a fine Monday morning, Remus finds himself slowly descending the stairs, each step a conscious effort not to slip and break his neck.

His lack of enthusiasm is not entirely unwarranted, given the fact that the classroom is a literal Dungeon.

The hallway is wide but grim, the walls speckled with torches emitting an ominous green light that does little to dispel the dark but does plenty to remind any outsiders—including Remus—that the Dungeons are Slytherin territory. If anyone would sacrifice good visibility for a bit of drama, that would be the Slytherins.

Despite having had Potions classes for the past five years in the same classroom, Remus can't help being on edge as he walks on. He keeps a firm grip on his wand, just in case a particularly friendly Slytherin decides to start the day with an inter-House chat.

With almost half an hour left for the class to start, he's definitely early. Very early. But he likes being the first to walk in. It gives him time to gauge his surroundings and find a nice place to sit, not too exposed to the Professor but not so far at the back.

Having safely journeyed the eerie corridors, he relaxes a little as he enters the classroom. 

But instead of a peaceful, empty room, what greets him is a cloud of grey smoke curling and arcing in the dim light, stinging at his eyes. 

Remus waves his wand at the expanse of the room almost blindly, cursing under his breath. The thick curls of smoke fade away, bringing into his view the slim figure of a uniform-clad boy. He's looking out of a window at the murky waters of the Black Lake, his right side facing Remus. Dark hair falls almost to his shoulders in a carefully styled curl, framing a pale face with a sharp nose. He's holding a cigarette in one hand, running the other absent-mindedly along his collarbone.

He's not wearing a cloak, but Remus can make out a green and silver tie around his neck.

Delightful.

"Excuse me," Remus purses his lips, his throat still tingling with smoke.

The boy visibly starts but regains his composure almost immediately, as if he was never rattled in the first place. He turns to face Remus.

Remus holds in a groan when he recognises the boy.

Sirius Black.

Double delightful.

Of course it had to be not just any Slytherin, but a Slytherin from the House of Black.

Remus has never spoken to him before, and honestly, he wouldn't have it any other way. He's heard one too many details about Sirius Black, none of which has painted a pleasant impression. It's most likely got something to do with being unfathomably rich and spoiled, neither of which Remus can relate to.

Sirius Black arcs a single, perfectly shaped eyebrow. "Excused," he smirks, looking Remus up and down.

Remus frowns deeper. "You can't smoke in here," he places his books on the closest table but keeps his wand in his hand. "You need to put that out,"

Sirius raises his eyebrows, looking somewhat amused. "And why should I do that?"

"Because it's against the rules," Remus replies firmly, taking a few steps towards him.

Sirius' eyes are dark and intense. Remus tries to hold his gaze but Sirius turns to the window again, ignoring him.

"Well, would you look at that?" Sirius asks after a brief pause, still not looking at Remus.