The Polaroid was fraying at the edges, its once-vibrant colors faded from being handled too often. Sirius didn’t care. He carried it everywhere, tucked into his pocket or pressed between the pages of a book, pulling it out whenever he needed a quiet moment.

It was nothing extraordinary, really—just a picture of him and Remus on the train at the start of the school year. Remus’s head rested against Sirius’s shoulder, his soft curls tickling Sirius’s cheek as they both slept soundly, oblivious to whoever had snapped the photo. Probably James, Sirius thought, though Peter wasn’t above pulling pranks like that either.

Still, it wasn’t the photo itself that made Sirius’s heart race every time he looked at it. It was the way it made him feel—warm and full in a way he’d never experienced before.

James had laughed when he caught Sirius staring at it for the umpteenth time, shaking his head as he muttered, “You’re hopeless, Pads. Completely gone.” And maybe James was right.

Sirius couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment it happened, but somewhere between late-night conversations and stolen glances, he had fallen. Hard. The realization struck him like lightning—he wasn’t just fond of Remus; he was in love with him. And now, every time he looked at that Polaroid, he couldn’t help but wonder if Remus felt the same.