Remus lets the silent protract, unhelpfully, with his lips tucked in between his teeth to keep from smiling in a way that might have been—not unkind, but easily misunderstood. His eyes still crinkle at the corners despite his efforts, though, despite the fairly ruthless math he's doing behind them. Seventh year. A couple more months and William will vanish into the world of adulthood and professions and grown-up relationships. It's a world Remus knows he'll be largely excluded from, and—if Voldemort doesn't win, if they don't all die—maybe he'll see him in passing, in Diagon Alley or something, but he'll never really have to explain himself.
Also: hormones.
So before the silence goes from awkward to unbearable, he shows mercy.
"Are you," he says, but even if David Bowie and Elton John walked in and personally loosened his collar and told him to relax, he wouldn't be brave and progressive enough to outright ask if a near-stranger was queer. Option B: "Maybe when I'm not sick and you're not studying, we could go for a walk." He grins, hopefully. "For my immune system."
David Bowie and Elton John would not have loosened his collar, they probably just would have said something Britishishly sarcastic along the lines of Isn't it obvious.
"Yes," William says, not too quickly.
Voldemort might win. His muddy blood might be expunged from the planet along with his declassé Muggle swear words. He might end up jobless and thus instantly and irretrievably homeless, which is what many Chinese descent children are raised to believe. You don't get a lot of queer wizards anyway. He questions for a couple seconds if maybe this baby wizard doesn't know what he's doing, or is doing something different, because sometimes the cultures are so different. But surely.
I mean the Marauders don't really go on walks. You don't even have to have read the books to know this. "For your immune system." He rubs his hand on his robe to get rid of curly hair sensations e_e "There's also a theory of learning I should be giving my brain a rest now and again, so I'd be keen." Approximately one point three seconds later, William decides that sounds stupid and starts to turn colors again. Why do they wear such voluminous robes. That are BLACK. it's so hot in here.
Remus just stares at him for a beat, but not for any particular reason. It's only a mismatch of rhythms, like knocking elbows with James when they're paired together in class. Is there something coming after that well, Remus has no idea, he doesn't want to interrupt—no.
"Tomorrow?" he says. Possibly this is overeager of him, still held up by his lanky arms and smiling at William while he retreated, but he doesn't care. It will take more than some unabashed interest to deplete the reserve of Cool he's built up over the years, mostly by standing beside and slightly behind James Potter and Sirius Black with his hands in his pockets and a mild smile on his face. It's a large reserve. The only thing that could possibly destroy it would be starting Seventh Year without ever having snogged anyone, and what's where William's pink neck comes in. "If you've got time before dinner. I'll be up and about by then."
"I-- yes," William says. This time it is kind of fast, a touch off-balance but more focused, and he smiles afterward in a way that doesn't try hard enough to hide anything. Tomorrow is soon. Seems like code less mistakable for anything else, and while the increasing certainty of it seems very unnerving for other reasons, it's at least a lot more manageable than a rumpled Remus Lupin smiling up at him from a bed. Literally a bed. A public bed, which makes it worse somehow, like a trap. Being seventeen-years-old doesn't get much more unwieldy than this.
Clutching his pearls/decency, William purports to straighten his robes with his hands. "I can meet you here, or along the Viaduct." It's pretty there. And possibly long enough to constitute a walk, with you know, more private places conceivably to be found on either end. Obviously, William's grasp of the secret locations of Hogwarts isn't nearly as comprehensive or scandalous as that of some of this presently involved in this conversation.
"Viaduct," Remus says, and, "five o'clock," with a decisiveness that he hasn't earned through any experience whatsoever. He knows he's cute. His self-esteem issues have nothing to do with not understanding that he's cute. And sort of charming. And definitely going to snog a handsome Seventh Year who will never have to know anything important.
He flops back down and pulls the blanket up over his eyes, so William can go back to studying without feeling watched. But he is being watched, for the record. The blanket has little holes through the knitting.
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Also: hormones.
So before the silence goes from awkward to unbearable, he shows mercy.
"Are you," he says, but even if David Bowie and Elton John walked in and personally loosened his collar and told him to relax, he wouldn't be brave and progressive enough to outright ask if a near-stranger was queer. Option B: "Maybe when I'm not sick and you're not studying, we could go for a walk." He grins, hopefully. "For my immune system."
no subject
"Yes," William says, not too quickly.
Voldemort might win. His muddy blood might be expunged from the planet along with his declassé Muggle swear words. He might end up jobless and thus instantly and irretrievably homeless, which is what many Chinese descent children are raised to believe. You don't get a lot of queer wizards anyway. He questions for a couple seconds if maybe this baby wizard doesn't know what he's doing, or is doing something different, because sometimes the cultures are so different. But surely.
I mean the Marauders don't really go on walks. You don't even have to have read the books to know this. "For your immune system." He rubs his hand on his robe to get rid of curly hair sensations e_e "There's also a theory of learning I should be giving my brain a rest now and again, so I'd be keen." Approximately one point three seconds later, William decides that sounds stupid and starts to turn colors again. Why do they wear such voluminous robes. That are BLACK. it's so hot in here.
"Well." William stands up.
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"Tomorrow?" he says. Possibly this is overeager of him, still held up by his lanky arms and smiling at William while he retreated, but he doesn't care. It will take more than some unabashed interest to deplete the reserve of Cool he's built up over the years, mostly by standing beside and slightly behind James Potter and Sirius Black with his hands in his pockets and a mild smile on his face. It's a large reserve. The only thing that could possibly destroy it would be starting Seventh Year without ever having snogged anyone, and what's where William's pink neck comes in. "If you've got time before dinner. I'll be up and about by then."
no subject
Clutching his pearls/decency, William purports to straighten his robes with his hands. "I can meet you here, or along the Viaduct." It's pretty there. And possibly long enough to constitute a walk, with you know, more private places conceivably to be found on either end. Obviously, William's grasp of the secret locations of Hogwarts isn't nearly as comprehensive or scandalous as that of some of this presently involved in this conversation.
no subject
He flops back down and pulls the blanket up over his eyes, so William can go back to studying without feeling watched. But he is being watched, for the record. The blanket has little holes through the knitting.