With a Little Help from My Friends
Title: With a Little Help from My Friends
Genre: Humour; drama; a dash of romance
Ratings & Warnings: PG-13 (Mild swearing)
Word Count: 6985
Summary: There’s something the Marauders wouldn’t be caught dead reading in public, but in private it’s a very different matter. After all, it’s the only way to try and come to terms with the complex mysteries of the opposite sex. (Remus, Sirius, James, Peter and … R/T)
Author’s Note: This is a sort of prequel/outtake to a fic called The Measure of a Man, but should make sense on its own. It’s set in the sixth year. In it a reference was made to the above guilty secret of the Marauders; hrymfaxe and a couple of others rashly expressed a wish to read it and, as I rather fancied writing it, it’s now dedicated to her for her birthday with my best wishes.:D
With a Little Help from My Friends
Twenty past five, Friday afternoon, had fast become something of a weekly ritual. Sirius would check the common room was empty and, if not, ensure that it quickly was; James would make the mugs of tea as per individual requirement and occasional bizarre request; Peter was responsible for obtaining the most essential item of all from Clarice McKelvey in Ravenclaw, and Remus himself would…
Prove that even the best laid plans of all four could be completely mucked up by him alone. Leaving them holed up in the dormitory, minus the comfortable leather armchairs, the warmth of the fireplace, and Sirius’ usual half lean, half perch on the window ledge from where he could hold forth and look down at them at one and the same time. All so that he, Remus, could lie back feebly on the bed and think of things he didn’t want to.
“It’s not your fault.” James, who had appeared to be fully occupied shovelling spoonfuls of sugar into Peter’s mug, and checking that Sirius’ two bag silver teapot had brewed or stewed to perfection, was apparently managing to watch him too.
“It’s a nuisance though.”
“Not that much. Besides, less risk of anyone trying to get in here. You’re just worried we’ll realise that anyone can do the cake-supplying role you’ve tried to make your own.”
“You say that now,” Remus pointed out, rolling over onto his side on the bed to see if that was more comfortable (it wasn’t) and trying to grin in response to James’ light-hearted tone, “but you know what Sirius is like with house-elves. And they might say yes, no, and of course it’s not a bother at all, Master Black, but I bet you he comes back with something stale and dry which they’ve given him by accident.”
“Don’t worry about it. Peter’s gone.”
“What? I thought-“
“Peter couldn’t find Clarice anywhere, or so he said. Sirius told him that he was surrounded by hundreds of women who read the damn thing and it was pretty poor initiative not to at least ask one of them instead. To which Peter said that he was sick of having to read the recipes, and discuss how to make your toad-in-the-hole rise with Clarice afterwards so that she didn’t suspect there was another reason entirely why he was borrowing it. Sirius told him he was turning into a moaning old woman, Peter said better that than having to pretend to want a career in catering, and so Sirius is on a replacement mission and Peter’s hopefully getting iced cup cakes.” James paused, a slight frown appearing on his face as he stopped next to Remus’ bedside cabinet with a mug poised in each hand. “You don’t think we are…”
“What?”
“Turning into a bunch of old women.”
“Erm…” Remus, who had occasionally wondered about some aspects of all this as well, eyed his pillow and smacked it with his hand to look as if he was plumping it up instead of giving himself time. “Well, you three probably are, but I do at least do the crossword later on so my manly conscience is clear.”
“That’s good to know then. If only I hadn’t seen some of the very girly clues that you obviously know the answers to.”
“I’m not sure you’re in a position to criticise when you’ve just used the words ‘iced cup cakes’ in a sentence where you weren’t under any duress.”
“Ah.” James pulled a face. “Yeah, I’m not sure I’d like that one being quoted around the Quidditch pitch. Still, don’t chip your nail varnish, dear, this is very, very hot.” He put the mug down on the cabinet, the glint of laughter in his eyes fading as he looked at him. “Moony.”
Remus glanced down in the direction of his gaze and saw the telltale dark stain on his shirt near his elbow again. It had been a deep, nasty gash, which kept opening up.
“Shall I-?”
“No. I’ve got it.” Remus reached across for his wand with a grunt of effort that he couldn’t quite restrain, tapped his arm lightly, and muttered Episkey.
“Sirius is going to go and look for the splinter of wood or whatever it was later on. Get rid of it so you don’t catch yourself again.”
“There’s no need. I can do it myself after dinner.” Remus smiled. “Wonder what’s keeping-“
“You need to rest. Getting through today’s creased you and transformation was only two days ago.”
The part of Remus which ached from head to foot, and seemed as if he’d been wrongly reassembled by a set of particularly ham-fisted and sadistic Healers, felt like snapping back that he knew to the minute how long ago it was. And that he had only twenty-seven days and a little over six hours to the next reassembling session. But this was James, normally so brash and confident, now standing silently in front of him with anxious eyes.
“It’ll be me who ripped the wood apart in the first place.” Remus kept his voice casual. Almost off hand. “You’d think I’d know where it is, wouldn’t you? Be quite helpful to be able to point Sirius in the right direction really.”
“Moony…” James prodded his glasses back up his nose although they didn’t appear to have slipped down. “I seem to remember an embarrassing occasion when a set of antlers got wedged in the door and pulled two bloody great planks out.”
“Yes, but-“
“And Padfoot has been known to chew anything, including that whole chair once, and we’re never quite sure what Peter’s eaten or stolen during the night. Least of all Peter.”
“Yes, but-“
“So I’d hate you to think you have the monopoly on anti-social behaviour here. Any one of us could have smashed it. You’re just the poor sod who got torn up by it.”
“Yes, but-“ Hazel eyes, daring him fiercely to disagree, stared at him and Remus shut his mouth because James knew as well as he did that some things went way beyond being described as anti-social behaviour. But this was how they dealt with it because this was how he always had and, in this at least, they followed his lead. By turning it into something to dismiss lightly and laugh at.
It was only occasionally he didn’t feel much like laughing, which in turn felt like letting them down, somehow. How would he ever cope now if he didn’t have friends like these? How had he before when he didn’t? Measured against that memory, which was never far away, did it matter if he sometimes let them get away with things they shouldn’t?
“Of course, you do like to go around wearing a couple of planks on your head,” he said, picking up his mug and letting the steam gently touch his face. “So it could actually have been you on the lookout for a new top hat.”
James rubbed his jaw reflectively, visibly relaxing. “Or Wormtail biting off more than he can chew? Padfoot hoping someone might throw him a stick to chase?”
“Or just me trying out the bijou and rustic decorating look again.” Remus smiled into his mug as he raised it to his lips.
James chuckled and turned away, which gave Remus time to swallow tea and gather his slightly wavering composure, just as Sirius and Peter burst into the room with what appeared to be an on-going conversation well and truly going on.
“She can’t have been,” said Peter firmly. “No way. I looked everywhere.”
“That must be why I fell over her waiting for you on the bloody staircase then.” Sirius rolled his eyes upwards. “’Oh Sirius,’” his voice took on a high-pitched simper, “have you seen Peter anywhere? Only I’m so excited because there’s a recipe for Baked Alaska in this week’s edition, and I’m dying to discuss with him how you cook it in the oven without the ice cream melting. Or if he thinks the secret could be in the meringue?’” He shrugged. “God, I felt so sorry for the poor girl, I’ve promised you’ll meet her tomorrow so you can make a dozen crème brulees together to make it up to her.”
“You didn’t?” The colour had drained from Peter’s face.
“Nah. Told her the secret’s to buy it from a shop, ready-made by someone else with nothing better to do. Moony!” Sirius strode across the room in seemingly two strides and clapped Remus rather too vigorously on the shoulder. “Looking pale and not very interesting as usual, I see. Do you think you’re going to make it through the night or shall I get to work on your eulogy? What’s this?”
He held up a yellow object which had been on the bedside cabinet.
“It’s a banana,” said Remus, helpfully.
“It’s from Lily,” said Peter, slightly less helpfully.
“Is it now?” Sirius’ eyebrows lifted suggestively and he grinned at James, who was endeavouring to look unconcerned over his mug. “And we all know what they say giving a banana to someone of the opposite sex means, don’t we?”
“No, we don-“ Peter looked interested for a moment instead of ashen, but Remus cut in hastily with, “I missed prefect duty and she covered for me. She told me bananas were good for warding off flu.”
“Flu?” Sirius scowled in obvious disgust. “You’re going to have to come up with something else as an excuse. She’s not daft, you know, otherwise she’d have fallen long ago for Prongs’ eccentric notion of seduction techniques. I don’t suppose you want this, do you?”
“No, I suppose I do.” Remus put his palm out firmly.
“Pity.” Sirius grinned, unabashed, and tossed the banana back at him. “Still, I expect Snivellus will be popping by with some grapes later on. Anyway,” he reached round to the back of his jumper and pulled out a rather tatty-looking magazine which he held up triumphantly. “This will help make your final hours rib-tickling ones.”
“But he looks dreadful,” Peter said, staring at him, just as Remus was starting both a grin and a sarcastic reply. “It’s been such a bad one this time and his spell work in Charms this afternoon was all over the place. We should let him rest and forget it this week.”
“Really it would take my mind off things,” Remus retorted, smarting somewhat at Peter’s downright irritating concern - and only just resisting saying that even all over the place his spell work was still far superior to Peter’s - but Sirius interrupted.
“Oh rubbish! Best thing for him!” He glowered crossly at Peter. “Is this just because you’ve failed to get us any cake?”
“…What?” Peter was caught for a moment, still either scrutinising Remus or lost in thought about something. “Oh no. Look.”
He held his robes aside and the arm which had been hidden emerged with a plate bearing an impressively large coffee cake.
“Peter!” James gave him a congratulatory pat on the head like a proud father to a child. “You’ve gone and surpassed yourself there, mate.” He raised an eyebrow at Remus. “Dear me, those cheese scones of last week aren’t looking quite so good now, Moony. The standard bar has been raised!”
“That’s not what you said when you ate about four. Still, sack me if you want,” Remus said, his tone a little sharper than he expected. He folded his arms across his chest in what he hoped was a casual, rather than a petulant manner, and fixed his eyes on the canopy above. Firmly telling his aching, addled head to get some perspective on the matter rather than consider ways of challenging Peter to a duel over the right to supply calorie-laden plates.
Besides which, with his spell work all over the place, he’d probably lose.
“Oh we’d never do that,” James wagged his finger at him in mock reproach. “It isn’t like you being a prefect, you know. No, you’re actually good at this. No one else can do that mixture of polite apology at causing so much trouble, and then the warm gratitude that leaves every house-elf with that happy feeling inside at having helped that nice Master Lupin out. What’s more, it all sounds natural.”
“It is natural,” Remus said, a trifle indignantly. “Nice, boring and natural, that’s me. I work very hard at it.”
“Nor have any of us got the patience to stand there for ten minutes and ask them all about their day,” put in Sirius, taking a running leap onto his bed and landing lightly and gracefully with his long legs crossed and arms behind his dark head against the pillow. He glanced across at Peter, who was slicing up the cake with his back turned, and took the opportunity to mouth silently at Remus, an unfamiliar furrow of uncertainty to his brow, “You sure you’re up for this?”
Remus nodded, trying to stop the smile that threatened to spread across his face. There was no need to turn into an emotional, five year old drama queen just because he felt a bit off colour, needing reassurance from his little friends that he really was wanted at their tea party.
He did let himself wink at Sirius, who started to grin in relief in return, and then straightened his own face up very quickly as Peter handed him a plate.
“Ta,” he said. “We all ready then?”
“Hang on a sec.” James was refilling his mug. Peter passed a plate to Remus, who now felt magnanimous enough to say, quite truthfully, “It looks really great.”
Peter shot a quick look at James, busy with the tea and Sirius, busy reading the contents page of the magazine with what looked like far more concentration than he ever gave text books. “They wanted to know where you are,” he muttered quietly out of the side of his mouth. “The house-elves,” he added, as Remus looked blankly at him. “The one called Tiddy went and got this when I said you weren’t well. James says you should always use what knowledge you’ve got to its best advantage,” he said, still low-voiced, and gave a pleased little nod at the surprise which was undoubtedly showing on Remus’ face.
“When you two have quite finished yapping,” Sirius said impatiently. “Then I’ll begin. Everyone lying comfortably? Refreshments to hand? Here we go then, with Witch Weekly, the magazine for the modern, forward-thinking witch, and this week’s instalment of the essential guide to the complex mysteries of female life.”
He held the magazine up with one hand so they could all see the cover, showing a very attractive blonde witch sipping a cool-looking drink through a straw, under the headline: The secret spells to help you feel fabulous this summer!
“About time they had a red head on the cover. That’s two blondes, three brunettes and one cat now,” said James, looking rather judgemental.
“She’s nice though,” Peter said.
“Not bad.” Sirius took a large bite of cake, and started to chew and talk indistinctly at the same time. “Now the contents this week include - and stop me if there’s one you fancy - Great looks and great style at great prices. You might like some hints from that one, Moony? No? Okay, there’s Healthy food should never be boring, a statement which is clearly ludicrous as it always is, and The spells you need for fake tans without streaks. Why can’t you take all your clothes off and sit outside? Then there’s Five steps to lovely feet, The little black dress robes that will take you anywhere, Revamping that tired old bathroom and, most exciting of all, Perfumed blooms to enhance your garden. That lot should cure insomniacs everywhere. Why do they always put the decent stuff right at the bottom or over the page?”
“Is it like Playwizard always being on the top shelf?” Peter asked interestedly. “Like when Professor McGonagall knew what you were up to that day in Hogsmeade, even though you pretended you were after Mega Motorbikes?”
Siirus blinked momentarily before obviously deciding to ignore the fact that the last ten seconds of life had happened. He cleared his throat. “Oh, here we go: Why I can’t resist French wizards and their ooh la la?, Should I still be thinking of sex at my age? - you bet you should sweetheart, you just need a younger man who thinks about it all the time - and He wants to go further than I do; should I say yes or no? No need for a two page spread there because if he was doing it right she wouldn’t be asking such a bloody stupid question. However,” he broke off with a snort, “here’s one especially for you, Prongs. Why does he annoy me so much and yet I can’t stop thinking about him? Lily appears to be using an alias to write this one, but it doesn’t fool me. Especially when she says you’re a thoughtless, arrogant moron with impenetrable, fathom deep eyes, a husky voice that makes her go weak at the knees and jet black hair like the sky at midnight.”
“Padfoot. Shut it.” James’ hand crept self-consciously up to the back of his hair.
“Is ‘ooh la la’ some kind of sex…?” Peter’s voice trailed off as he caught Remus’ slight shake of the head. “Forget it,” he added quickly and took a bite of cake, his cheeks reddening.
“Are we ever going to get to the Agony Witch column?” Remus stared pointedly at Sirius, who was looking far too amused by all this. “You can read the rest in the privacy of your own bath and work on those five steps to lovely feet at the same time.”
“Such impatience, Master Lupin.” Sirius grinned at him, showing a set of cake stained teeth, and then let out a heavy sigh of mock resignation. “As none of you can wait, let’s see who the esteemed Aunt Tara, three times a very merry widow, and one of life’s true survivors, is giving her pearls of wisdom to this week. And then let’s see if Auntie Siri can give them some sensible advice instead.”
“We’re a bit pushed for time.” Peter looked at his watch. “Not long till dinner.”
“I don’t think any of us will be starving after this.” James nodded at the cake remains on his plate and blew his cheeks out feelingly.
“Well yes, but-“
“So no worries if we are a bit late then?”
“Oh no, it’s just-“ Peter’s voice tailed away again. “I … don’t like to rush Auntie Siri and her advice giving,” he offered after a second’s pause.
It sounded rather odd to Remus, especially when Peter was such a fan of this, but Sirius said, “Let’s stop mucking around then!” and flicked quickly to the back of the magazine. Remus was left to wonder for a moment just what motives they all did have for what had started out as a bit of a laugh. Now it still was a laugh, but, perhaps they were all like him, in being somewhere between gently amused and highly embarrassed (especially if they were found out), but rather curious and hopeful of learning something about the mysteries of girls all at the same.
Of course, he already had learnt a few surprising things. That women didn’t necessarily like you to have your hair looking tidy for some reason, which was a relief as infrequent cuts and thick hair meant his rarely was. That stubble was considered sexy when soft and a big turn-off when it left red marks all over your face (or elsewhere), and, rather surprisingly, a lot of them seemed to like looking at bare forearms and hands.
He tended to roll his sleeves up, anyway, to make them last at the elbows. Though he didn’t think his arms were particularly attractive normally, and couldn’t imagine anyone looking at one of them right now without being horrified…
“So are you doing this then?” Sirius seemed to be directing the question at him.
“What?” Remus took his eyes off the dried stain on his arm.
“Reading the questions out? It’s your turn.”
“Oh, yeah. Fine.” Remus propped himself up on an unwilling elbow, expecting the magazine to be chucked unceremoniously at him, but Sirius flicked his wand quickly at it and it floated across the room to land feather-light by his hand.
“I don’t want any on…” Sirius scowled.
“What?”
“You know.”
“Periods?” Remus asked innocently.
“Yeah.” The scowl deepened. “Nothing like that or any personal bathroom stuff.”
“I’m sure none of us want them either, Padfoot.”
“Just… You know. Make sure you censor them first. Like James didn’t.”
“And how was I supposed to know?” James held his hands up in query. “It started off with her moaning about having heavy legs. I thought she wanted a diet or something for her thighs.”
“If you’d had the brains to read ahead-“
“There should be some kind of warning system-“
“Why didn’t you read the end first before we all felt sick?”
“I will check!” Remus said loudly across the pair of them as he scanned the page. He bit his lip to hold back the chuckle that threatened to come to the surface. Some of these were perfect for Auntie Siri to get to grips with.
And one of them he rather fancied knowing the answer to himself.
“Alright.” He gave a little cough and grinned at their expectant faces. “This is a bit of a sad one to start with. ‘My wife has left me after eighteen years of marriage and says she wants to find herself. We are both in our forties, but she looks much younger than me and has men after her all the time. She’s rented an apartment and goes out each night with all her single friends. I pay all her bills and she says she still loves me, but needs her own space and I can only see her once a week. I don’t know whether to try and win her back or how to go about it. What do you think, Aunt Tara?’”
James sniffed. “Sounds like she’s found herself to me alright. Poor bastard.”
“What’s Aunt Tara say?” asked Peter.
“Mmn. Suggests building up his own circle of friends, joining something like The Goodlife Hobby Club, giving notice he’s going to stop paying the bills and, when he’s ready, to join the Solitaire Dating Agency through which she had the great good fortune to meet her second husband.”
“Isn’t that the one that that only lasted three months before he fell down the stairs while drunk in a night club?” Peter said.
“I think so. Not sure that’s a great advert for marital bliss.” Remus looked up. “Auntie Siri?”
Sirius was lying back against the pillow with his eyes closed, his lips pursed in consideration. “Easy,” he said. “He needs to quit the moping and grow his hair. Use the money that was paying her bills to buy a pair of low-slung skinny jeans, a set of leathers and a large motorbike. Ask the youngest and most attractive woman he knows if she’d like to go for a ride and cruise up and down outside the wife’s place sounding the horn. Then go and do the same outside her friends’ places. Send his wife an anonymous letter supposedly from a woman who’s slept with him, and is apologising now she’s realised he’s married. Mention at least three times how insatiable he was and that there’s been a complaint about the noise from the neighbours. Join the dating agency, tell them he’s got a bike, likes Indian and Italian food, has a troubled, mysterious past he doesn’t like to talk about and sit back and wait for the owls to arrive. Next question.”
Peter laughed and clapped; James gave an approving thumbs up. Remus grinned and did as he was told.
“’The dog in the house next door to us barks all day long while its owners are out and it’s driving my husband and I mad. We want to say something, but don’t want to upset them as we don’t want an argument, especially as our cat uses their lawn as a toilet. Would putting a note through the door do the trick and what can we say on it?'”
“I can’t believe that!” Sirius had his eyes open now. “They need hexing for leaving the dog alone all day!”
James looked over at him and rolled his eyes. “What do you think, Moony? You’re good at both diplomacy and sorting obnoxious dogs out.”
“Well I don’t see how the note through the door is going to work. I only know one dog that can read.” Remus laughed as the others groaned. “These questions are all a bit boring; I’ll skip the one from the mum asking about how to get her new baby into a feeding and sleeping routine.”
“Every four hours.” Peter chipped in knowledgeably and, Remus thought, rather scarily.
“Where’s the sex ones?” asked James. “Down the bottom of the page? Stop messing around, Moony.”
“I’m trying to build up some tension here. But as you insist. ‘My husband and I constantly argue because he says sex five times a week isn’t excessive and I say it is. Who’s right and is it abnormal that he won’t take his cardigan or socks off when we do make love?’”
“Depends where he’s wearing them, I’d have thought.” Sirius frowned. “Are you reading that right; five times a week is excessive? More like a minimum unless you’re about one hundred and twenty.”
“Quality not quantity?” suggested Remus and then promptly wished he hadn’t.
“So that’s what you were doing with Trudy in the Astronomy Tower?” Sirius gave him an innocent look. “A quality control inspection?”
“I’m sure I’ve said till I was blue in the face that the door shut-“
“Knowing Trudy, I’m sure you were blue in the face. She doesn’t take no for an answer.”
“Just because you didn’t say no to her doesn’t mean I couldn’t.” Remus thought it best not to mention that it was no as in ‘No, I’m sorry, I’ve really got to go and write that Runespoor essay now, Trudy. Catch you later!’ Nor did he want to mention the very fast walking involved in fleeing - leaving - the scene, while wondering if he was out of his tiny little mind.
“Compared to everybody else,” Sirius had managed to find the hurt dignity in his voice which had eluded Remus, “I’m perfectly normal and simply make the most of the occasional opportunities I get. It’s only amongst Virgins United in here that I seem to be regarded as some kind of tart.”
“We don’t get the same occasional opportunities,” Remus said, thinking, as he often did, that a few not-that-sober kisses after a party and a bit of hand holding did not a love life make. Especially as she’d cut him dead the next day and ever since.
“I’ve told you there’s a girl back home-“ Peter started, but Sirius interrupted rudely to say, “Yeah, but it’s funny how she never writes, does she? I mean there’s Prongs saving himself for the momentous day Lily finally notices him under her feet-“
“Padfoot.” James grinned but there was an edge to his voice.
“-which is all very sweet, but I thought it was supposed to be the other way round? And you do get opportunities, Moony, you just do sod all about them. Girls like you, they talk to you, and all you do is dither around instead of going for it. Have we got to nag you into action about this as well and give you permission that it’s okay?”
“Probably.” Remus looked at James, not wanting to get into this with Sirius. Who took the simplistic view and didn’t understand the doubts about fairness, and a hundred other things, which sometimes filled his head. And sometimes didn’t, which was worrying in a different way.
“Why are you waiting for Lily?” he asked James, who shrugged uncomfortably, the colour rising in his cheeks.
He knew James would answer though. That was the difference between them; James didn’t avoid things.
“Other girls don’t interest me. They’re not her.” The flush grew even brighter, but he held Remus’ gaze and it was Remus, in the end, who turned away to take a sip of his abandoned tea and feel the ache in his limbs more bitterly than before.
“Getting back to the point of the question.” Sirius was looking at him. “You need to ditch your cardigan.”
“What?” The tea slopped over the edge of the mug and dripped down his hand onto the floor.
“That old brown thing of yours, Cardi Boy. Women don’t think it’s an object of sexual desire, a fact which is obvious to everyone except you.”
“I don’t-“ Remus spluttered, unable for a second to form a single, coherent sentence. He shook his hand irritably to rid it of tea. “I have one cardigan, which I wore once, when all my jumpers were out of commission. Why do you keep going on about it? I like it and the pockets are useful.”
“Nothing else is. You’ll never get laid unless you-“ Sirius glanced round the room and seemed to change his mind about what he was going to say next. “This is boring. Let’s do another question.”
Remus nodded, still inwardly fuming. “Yes, let’s. Right, we have the twenty-something witch who is going away for a first romantic weekend break with her boyfriend, and who wants to know what kind of underwear to take.”
Sirius grinned. “There’s only three types of bra known to man.” He looked expectantly at James.
“The Rawhide one - round ‘em up and point ‘em in the right direction.” James looked in turn at Peter, who said eagerly, “Glass bra - you can smash it open and grab ‘em.”
“Which leaves the Contrary bra - where you spend hours fumbling round the back and then realise it opens at the front.” Sirius threw back his head and laughed, as did the others.
“It’s astounding, isn’t it?” Remus said, to no one in particular, apart from the ceiling, over the howls of laughter. Peter looked as if he was going to have a fit.
“What? That you can’t think of a fourth?” Sirius wiped what looked like a tear away. “Could you imagine Aunt Tara actually telling her that?”
“No, that jokes that old are still going strong. But I’d like an answer to this next question. ‘How do you know if someone wants you to kiss them and you’re not going to offend them?’”
“They say ‘Yes, please.’” Peter was holding his side now.
“When their tongue’s down your throat, it’s bit of a clue.” Sirius looked at Peter and they both fell sideways on their respective beds, howling face down into the blankets.
“Oh, for Merlin’s sake.” Remus looked to James for signs of sanity, but there was no help there. “You are such a prefect sometimes, Moony,” James sniggered.
“Yeah, that’s me,” Remus muttered under his breath. “A boring, cardigan-wearing, never been laid, spell work all over the place prefect.” He raised his voice. “For the interest of anyone out there who may still be paying any attention-“
“Moony’s getting all pissy,” choked Peter.
“It’ll be detention next,” Sirius said incoherently from his position face down.
“One hundred lines on not talking about bras in the bedroom.” Peter buried his face in the crook of his elbow. “I must not mention cup size or talk about my straps.”
“-the last question says, ‘I have a friend who-‘“
James pulled a face. “Everyone knows it’s not ‘a friend’ at all!”
“’-is one of a small group, who have been friends for a long time now. Sometimes my friend feels it’s hard to keep up as they are all attractive, popular figures, who are very clever, and everyone admires them-‘”
“Bet they’re total pains in the arse really,” James said as Sirius, still grinning, propped himself up on an elbow to listen.
“’-while my friend wonders if they look down on her at all? She thinks she’s not special in any way like they are and is scared that one day they might not want to be friends with her because of that. What should I say to her, Aunt Tara?’”
There was an odd little minute of silence as even Peter had stopped laughing.
“And, no, I didn’t write it, moaning about you lot,” Remus said with a grin, wanting to break the quiet for a reason he couldn’t put a name to.
“Thank God.” Sirius gave an exaggerated sigh of relief. “Only it sounds just like you having another depressed moment because your Shrinking Potion has somehow doubled the size of the cauldron and your close friends have to sort it out for you.”
“That would be the time my close friends put so many daisy roots in it to compensate that, far from shrinking things, everything was nearly invisible?”
“A minor miscalculation. We got you out of it. We always do get ourselves out of everything when we stick together.” Sirius was looking at him a little oddly.
“You don’t really think that, do you, Moony?” James had the same look on his face.
“Think what? That you’re complete morons who can’t even chop daisy roots up properly? Well, now you mention it-“
“Like the letter writer says,” James said quietly.
“Merlin, no!” Remus frowned. What on earth were they thinking? He opened his mouth to say something else and then caught sight of Peter, lying utterly still and rigid on his bed.
He remembered Peter’s strange reluctance to hear this week’s letters.
Surely he can’t ever think that? Surely he wouldn’t have…
“Only I know you had a terrible transformation this time, “James was saying, “and I know we take the piss sometimes when you just have to put a brave face on it all, but we’ve learnt from it and we’ll take better care next time.”
“Look.” Remus dragged his eyes away from the still figure. “You’ve made me forget all about it. Made me laugh. That’s what you always do and-and, we’re all special, aren’t we? We all bring something to us being friends that no one else could do. Don’t we, Peter?” He turned his head, speaking from the heart, speaking the truth, and hoping desperately he was saying the right thing. “You-you… brought that fabulous cake.”
He cursed himself furiously for not being able to think of something better.
For a moment he thought Peter wasn’t going to reply and then the small, round face smiled. “I did, didn’t I?” he said.
“Which reminds me - time for a second slice.” Sirius swung his legs off the bed and headed for the plate. “You want another one, Peter, before it all goes? As you’re the hero who got it instead of those pathetic scones we usually get lumbered with.”
The smile grew broader. “Yeah, I’ll have another. I expect that letter writer was just having a really crap day and wrote on the spur of the moment, don’t you think? She probably regretted it right away and wanted to take it back.”
“Probably heard those bra jokes again and it tipped her over the edge.” Remus risked sounding light-hearted and was relieved beyond measure when Peter laughed with James.
“What’s Auntie Siri going to tell her then?” Peter was so relaxed and cheerful looking again that Remus wondered if he’d misunderstood the whole thing.
He probably had. Not least because no one in their right mind, having seen a werewolf up close, would think that was special.
“Hmm?” Sirius had just crammed at least half a slice of cake in his mouth, and it took him a moment of hasty chewing before he could reply. “Oh… Not to be such a silly cow and that friends stick together and no one’s ever left out. And that everyone gets to be a miserable sod once in a while and no one thinks any the worse of them. Is that what the incredible Aunt Tara says?”
“Something vaguely along those lines if you read it with your eyes shut and in a thick fog.” Remus raised his mug in mock salute. “Well done Auntie Siri, solving everyone’s problems for another week.”
“Well done us all.” James had raised his mug too as Sirius gave a mock bow. “No problem too big or small for us to make ten times worse.”
“To friendship.” Sirius raised his. “And five steps to lovely feet and finding new bra jokes to annoy Moony.”
“To friendship.” Peter laughed; his face content. Whatever the crisis had been, it was clearly over.
“Friendship.” As Remus smiled and drank, lying back and looking round at them all, he caught sight of the ugly bloodstain on his sleeve.
It could only be his imagination, of course, but it seemed to him to look far more insignificant than it had before.
Grimmauld Place, 1996.
“Wotcher.”
Sirius, busy pouring himself a mug of tea, was caught in momentary surprise as out the corner of his eye he saw Tonks push the kitchen door open instead of Remus. She padded in wearing what seemed an odd assortment of clothing consisting of jeans, black t-shirt, purple socks and an over-sized, shapeless dark cardigan, which was presumably meant to protect her against the chill of the morning.
“Early shift again?” he said, thinking that she’d found it easier to stay over once or twice now since he’d made the offer, Grimmauld being that bit nearer to the Ministry than her own place. He could have sworn she’d gone home last night though; he’d seen her standing at the door with her cloak in her hand as though she was off.
“Mmn.” He heard her stretch and yawn behind him. “Any tea going spare?”
“I’ll put some more on. You won’t want mine, will you?”
“Ooh, no, ta. Don’t know how you can drink it so strong.” Another yawn.
“Puts hairs on your chest.” Sirius grinned and turned round to face her. “Which you probably don’t want any more of so-“
He stopped with the mug half way to his mouth.
Tonks wasn’t beautiful in any conventional sense. She didn’t have provocative features or perfect bone structure. Instead, she was a compilation of warmth and affection, perception and wit, which matched the liveliness of her expression and the sense of fun that shone out of those big dark eyes.
But this morning…
This morning she took his breath away.
The door creaked painfully open again and Remus, hair always that bit too long for neatness, and looking as if it hadn’t yet seen a comb anyway, stepped through it with a polite smile and a quiet, “Morning.” Sirius cast his mind back to last night when Remus had seen her to the door. He’d glanced down himself from the top of the stairs, hearing their footsteps, but they hadn’t been speaking at all, just standing there very composed and serious. Remus had been resting one hand on the door as though about to open it, the other brushed a stray piece of hair back from her face. A casual, easy gesture that a friend would make.
Except Remus didn’t make casual gestures, he made very careful ones.
The signs had been there for weeks now he came to think about it. He’d even mentioned them once or twice and Remus had smoothly put him off, while Tonks alternated between looking uncertain or determined, finding more and more reasons to linger here. But he’d assumed…
He’d assumed Remus would wait for him. Would need him, need his advice, and wait to be pushed into it, like in the old days. And he’d been busy with Harry staying, and then, when Harry had gone, the dull, quiet days since had slipped by in a blur almost without him noticing.
No one waited for him nowadays. It was him who sought out Remus' advice all the time, after all.
Sirius looked at Tonks again. Who was replying to Remus' polite enquiry quietly and demurely - Tonks was never demure - confirming that she had spent a very comfortable night, thanks very much. Asking if he fancied some toast and was there any raspberry jam to be had around here? Her tone was subdued, but her eyes danced and sparkled against her flushed, creamy skin. Her hair was the brightest, most vibrant of pinks, gleaming in the rays of the early morning sun as it streamed through the window.
She was literally glowing. Lit from within.
He looked at Remus, at the small crooked smile on his face which hadn’t wavered since he’d come through the door. He looked as if he’d shed ten years. Looked like a young, hopeful boy again, with a future of possibilities he scarcely believed in in front of him again.
Had he taken his eyes off her yet?
Sirius felt a shaft of pain go through him that could be joy, or envy, or the familiar acute ache of longing for the past and the people who should be standing here with him to see this.
It seemed very important to decide once and for all that it was joy that he was feeling so he did.
He waited his moment; waited till Remus had poured himself a mug of tea and sat down, raising it to his lips. Holding back his own grin by clenching his jaw fiercely as he looked at Tonks again, and noticed the baggy garment that all but buried her and was definitely not her own.
When it was the perfect time he spoke.
“See you got the cardi off at long last then, Moony.”
The mug jerked violently, and involuntarily, and the tea slopped messily onto the floor.
Sirius flung his head back and roared with laughter.
Genre: Humour; drama; a dash of romance
Ratings & Warnings: PG-13 (Mild swearing)
Word Count: 6985
Summary: There’s something the Marauders wouldn’t be caught dead reading in public, but in private it’s a very different matter. After all, it’s the only way to try and come to terms with the complex mysteries of the opposite sex. (Remus, Sirius, James, Peter and … R/T)
Author’s Note: This is a sort of prequel/outtake to a fic called The Measure of a Man, but should make sense on its own. It’s set in the sixth year. In it a reference was made to the above guilty secret of the Marauders; hrymfaxe and a couple of others rashly expressed a wish to read it and, as I rather fancied writing it, it’s now dedicated to her for her birthday with my best wishes.:D
With a Little Help from My Friends
Twenty past five, Friday afternoon, had fast become something of a weekly ritual. Sirius would check the common room was empty and, if not, ensure that it quickly was; James would make the mugs of tea as per individual requirement and occasional bizarre request; Peter was responsible for obtaining the most essential item of all from Clarice McKelvey in Ravenclaw, and Remus himself would…
Prove that even the best laid plans of all four could be completely mucked up by him alone. Leaving them holed up in the dormitory, minus the comfortable leather armchairs, the warmth of the fireplace, and Sirius’ usual half lean, half perch on the window ledge from where he could hold forth and look down at them at one and the same time. All so that he, Remus, could lie back feebly on the bed and think of things he didn’t want to.
“It’s not your fault.” James, who had appeared to be fully occupied shovelling spoonfuls of sugar into Peter’s mug, and checking that Sirius’ two bag silver teapot had brewed or stewed to perfection, was apparently managing to watch him too.
“It’s a nuisance though.”
“Not that much. Besides, less risk of anyone trying to get in here. You’re just worried we’ll realise that anyone can do the cake-supplying role you’ve tried to make your own.”
“You say that now,” Remus pointed out, rolling over onto his side on the bed to see if that was more comfortable (it wasn’t) and trying to grin in response to James’ light-hearted tone, “but you know what Sirius is like with house-elves. And they might say yes, no, and of course it’s not a bother at all, Master Black, but I bet you he comes back with something stale and dry which they’ve given him by accident.”
“Don’t worry about it. Peter’s gone.”
“What? I thought-“
“Peter couldn’t find Clarice anywhere, or so he said. Sirius told him that he was surrounded by hundreds of women who read the damn thing and it was pretty poor initiative not to at least ask one of them instead. To which Peter said that he was sick of having to read the recipes, and discuss how to make your toad-in-the-hole rise with Clarice afterwards so that she didn’t suspect there was another reason entirely why he was borrowing it. Sirius told him he was turning into a moaning old woman, Peter said better that than having to pretend to want a career in catering, and so Sirius is on a replacement mission and Peter’s hopefully getting iced cup cakes.” James paused, a slight frown appearing on his face as he stopped next to Remus’ bedside cabinet with a mug poised in each hand. “You don’t think we are…”
“What?”
“Turning into a bunch of old women.”
“Erm…” Remus, who had occasionally wondered about some aspects of all this as well, eyed his pillow and smacked it with his hand to look as if he was plumping it up instead of giving himself time. “Well, you three probably are, but I do at least do the crossword later on so my manly conscience is clear.”
“That’s good to know then. If only I hadn’t seen some of the very girly clues that you obviously know the answers to.”
“I’m not sure you’re in a position to criticise when you’ve just used the words ‘iced cup cakes’ in a sentence where you weren’t under any duress.”
“Ah.” James pulled a face. “Yeah, I’m not sure I’d like that one being quoted around the Quidditch pitch. Still, don’t chip your nail varnish, dear, this is very, very hot.” He put the mug down on the cabinet, the glint of laughter in his eyes fading as he looked at him. “Moony.”
Remus glanced down in the direction of his gaze and saw the telltale dark stain on his shirt near his elbow again. It had been a deep, nasty gash, which kept opening up.
“Shall I-?”
“No. I’ve got it.” Remus reached across for his wand with a grunt of effort that he couldn’t quite restrain, tapped his arm lightly, and muttered Episkey.
“Sirius is going to go and look for the splinter of wood or whatever it was later on. Get rid of it so you don’t catch yourself again.”
“There’s no need. I can do it myself after dinner.” Remus smiled. “Wonder what’s keeping-“
“You need to rest. Getting through today’s creased you and transformation was only two days ago.”
The part of Remus which ached from head to foot, and seemed as if he’d been wrongly reassembled by a set of particularly ham-fisted and sadistic Healers, felt like snapping back that he knew to the minute how long ago it was. And that he had only twenty-seven days and a little over six hours to the next reassembling session. But this was James, normally so brash and confident, now standing silently in front of him with anxious eyes.
“It’ll be me who ripped the wood apart in the first place.” Remus kept his voice casual. Almost off hand. “You’d think I’d know where it is, wouldn’t you? Be quite helpful to be able to point Sirius in the right direction really.”
“Moony…” James prodded his glasses back up his nose although they didn’t appear to have slipped down. “I seem to remember an embarrassing occasion when a set of antlers got wedged in the door and pulled two bloody great planks out.”
“Yes, but-“
“And Padfoot has been known to chew anything, including that whole chair once, and we’re never quite sure what Peter’s eaten or stolen during the night. Least of all Peter.”
“Yes, but-“
“So I’d hate you to think you have the monopoly on anti-social behaviour here. Any one of us could have smashed it. You’re just the poor sod who got torn up by it.”
“Yes, but-“ Hazel eyes, daring him fiercely to disagree, stared at him and Remus shut his mouth because James knew as well as he did that some things went way beyond being described as anti-social behaviour. But this was how they dealt with it because this was how he always had and, in this at least, they followed his lead. By turning it into something to dismiss lightly and laugh at.
It was only occasionally he didn’t feel much like laughing, which in turn felt like letting them down, somehow. How would he ever cope now if he didn’t have friends like these? How had he before when he didn’t? Measured against that memory, which was never far away, did it matter if he sometimes let them get away with things they shouldn’t?
“Of course, you do like to go around wearing a couple of planks on your head,” he said, picking up his mug and letting the steam gently touch his face. “So it could actually have been you on the lookout for a new top hat.”
James rubbed his jaw reflectively, visibly relaxing. “Or Wormtail biting off more than he can chew? Padfoot hoping someone might throw him a stick to chase?”
“Or just me trying out the bijou and rustic decorating look again.” Remus smiled into his mug as he raised it to his lips.
James chuckled and turned away, which gave Remus time to swallow tea and gather his slightly wavering composure, just as Sirius and Peter burst into the room with what appeared to be an on-going conversation well and truly going on.
“She can’t have been,” said Peter firmly. “No way. I looked everywhere.”
“That must be why I fell over her waiting for you on the bloody staircase then.” Sirius rolled his eyes upwards. “’Oh Sirius,’” his voice took on a high-pitched simper, “have you seen Peter anywhere? Only I’m so excited because there’s a recipe for Baked Alaska in this week’s edition, and I’m dying to discuss with him how you cook it in the oven without the ice cream melting. Or if he thinks the secret could be in the meringue?’” He shrugged. “God, I felt so sorry for the poor girl, I’ve promised you’ll meet her tomorrow so you can make a dozen crème brulees together to make it up to her.”
“You didn’t?” The colour had drained from Peter’s face.
“Nah. Told her the secret’s to buy it from a shop, ready-made by someone else with nothing better to do. Moony!” Sirius strode across the room in seemingly two strides and clapped Remus rather too vigorously on the shoulder. “Looking pale and not very interesting as usual, I see. Do you think you’re going to make it through the night or shall I get to work on your eulogy? What’s this?”
He held up a yellow object which had been on the bedside cabinet.
“It’s a banana,” said Remus, helpfully.
“It’s from Lily,” said Peter, slightly less helpfully.
“Is it now?” Sirius’ eyebrows lifted suggestively and he grinned at James, who was endeavouring to look unconcerned over his mug. “And we all know what they say giving a banana to someone of the opposite sex means, don’t we?”
“No, we don-“ Peter looked interested for a moment instead of ashen, but Remus cut in hastily with, “I missed prefect duty and she covered for me. She told me bananas were good for warding off flu.”
“Flu?” Sirius scowled in obvious disgust. “You’re going to have to come up with something else as an excuse. She’s not daft, you know, otherwise she’d have fallen long ago for Prongs’ eccentric notion of seduction techniques. I don’t suppose you want this, do you?”
“No, I suppose I do.” Remus put his palm out firmly.
“Pity.” Sirius grinned, unabashed, and tossed the banana back at him. “Still, I expect Snivellus will be popping by with some grapes later on. Anyway,” he reached round to the back of his jumper and pulled out a rather tatty-looking magazine which he held up triumphantly. “This will help make your final hours rib-tickling ones.”
“But he looks dreadful,” Peter said, staring at him, just as Remus was starting both a grin and a sarcastic reply. “It’s been such a bad one this time and his spell work in Charms this afternoon was all over the place. We should let him rest and forget it this week.”
“Really it would take my mind off things,” Remus retorted, smarting somewhat at Peter’s downright irritating concern - and only just resisting saying that even all over the place his spell work was still far superior to Peter’s - but Sirius interrupted.
“Oh rubbish! Best thing for him!” He glowered crossly at Peter. “Is this just because you’ve failed to get us any cake?”
“…What?” Peter was caught for a moment, still either scrutinising Remus or lost in thought about something. “Oh no. Look.”
He held his robes aside and the arm which had been hidden emerged with a plate bearing an impressively large coffee cake.
“Peter!” James gave him a congratulatory pat on the head like a proud father to a child. “You’ve gone and surpassed yourself there, mate.” He raised an eyebrow at Remus. “Dear me, those cheese scones of last week aren’t looking quite so good now, Moony. The standard bar has been raised!”
“That’s not what you said when you ate about four. Still, sack me if you want,” Remus said, his tone a little sharper than he expected. He folded his arms across his chest in what he hoped was a casual, rather than a petulant manner, and fixed his eyes on the canopy above. Firmly telling his aching, addled head to get some perspective on the matter rather than consider ways of challenging Peter to a duel over the right to supply calorie-laden plates.
Besides which, with his spell work all over the place, he’d probably lose.
“Oh we’d never do that,” James wagged his finger at him in mock reproach. “It isn’t like you being a prefect, you know. No, you’re actually good at this. No one else can do that mixture of polite apology at causing so much trouble, and then the warm gratitude that leaves every house-elf with that happy feeling inside at having helped that nice Master Lupin out. What’s more, it all sounds natural.”
“It is natural,” Remus said, a trifle indignantly. “Nice, boring and natural, that’s me. I work very hard at it.”
“Nor have any of us got the patience to stand there for ten minutes and ask them all about their day,” put in Sirius, taking a running leap onto his bed and landing lightly and gracefully with his long legs crossed and arms behind his dark head against the pillow. He glanced across at Peter, who was slicing up the cake with his back turned, and took the opportunity to mouth silently at Remus, an unfamiliar furrow of uncertainty to his brow, “You sure you’re up for this?”
Remus nodded, trying to stop the smile that threatened to spread across his face. There was no need to turn into an emotional, five year old drama queen just because he felt a bit off colour, needing reassurance from his little friends that he really was wanted at their tea party.
He did let himself wink at Sirius, who started to grin in relief in return, and then straightened his own face up very quickly as Peter handed him a plate.
“Ta,” he said. “We all ready then?”
“Hang on a sec.” James was refilling his mug. Peter passed a plate to Remus, who now felt magnanimous enough to say, quite truthfully, “It looks really great.”
Peter shot a quick look at James, busy with the tea and Sirius, busy reading the contents page of the magazine with what looked like far more concentration than he ever gave text books. “They wanted to know where you are,” he muttered quietly out of the side of his mouth. “The house-elves,” he added, as Remus looked blankly at him. “The one called Tiddy went and got this when I said you weren’t well. James says you should always use what knowledge you’ve got to its best advantage,” he said, still low-voiced, and gave a pleased little nod at the surprise which was undoubtedly showing on Remus’ face.
“When you two have quite finished yapping,” Sirius said impatiently. “Then I’ll begin. Everyone lying comfortably? Refreshments to hand? Here we go then, with Witch Weekly, the magazine for the modern, forward-thinking witch, and this week’s instalment of the essential guide to the complex mysteries of female life.”
He held the magazine up with one hand so they could all see the cover, showing a very attractive blonde witch sipping a cool-looking drink through a straw, under the headline: The secret spells to help you feel fabulous this summer!
“About time they had a red head on the cover. That’s two blondes, three brunettes and one cat now,” said James, looking rather judgemental.
“She’s nice though,” Peter said.
“Not bad.” Sirius took a large bite of cake, and started to chew and talk indistinctly at the same time. “Now the contents this week include - and stop me if there’s one you fancy - Great looks and great style at great prices. You might like some hints from that one, Moony? No? Okay, there’s Healthy food should never be boring, a statement which is clearly ludicrous as it always is, and The spells you need for fake tans without streaks. Why can’t you take all your clothes off and sit outside? Then there’s Five steps to lovely feet, The little black dress robes that will take you anywhere, Revamping that tired old bathroom and, most exciting of all, Perfumed blooms to enhance your garden. That lot should cure insomniacs everywhere. Why do they always put the decent stuff right at the bottom or over the page?”
“Is it like Playwizard always being on the top shelf?” Peter asked interestedly. “Like when Professor McGonagall knew what you were up to that day in Hogsmeade, even though you pretended you were after Mega Motorbikes?”
Siirus blinked momentarily before obviously deciding to ignore the fact that the last ten seconds of life had happened. He cleared his throat. “Oh, here we go: Why I can’t resist French wizards and their ooh la la?, Should I still be thinking of sex at my age? - you bet you should sweetheart, you just need a younger man who thinks about it all the time - and He wants to go further than I do; should I say yes or no? No need for a two page spread there because if he was doing it right she wouldn’t be asking such a bloody stupid question. However,” he broke off with a snort, “here’s one especially for you, Prongs. Why does he annoy me so much and yet I can’t stop thinking about him? Lily appears to be using an alias to write this one, but it doesn’t fool me. Especially when she says you’re a thoughtless, arrogant moron with impenetrable, fathom deep eyes, a husky voice that makes her go weak at the knees and jet black hair like the sky at midnight.”
“Padfoot. Shut it.” James’ hand crept self-consciously up to the back of his hair.
“Is ‘ooh la la’ some kind of sex…?” Peter’s voice trailed off as he caught Remus’ slight shake of the head. “Forget it,” he added quickly and took a bite of cake, his cheeks reddening.
“Are we ever going to get to the Agony Witch column?” Remus stared pointedly at Sirius, who was looking far too amused by all this. “You can read the rest in the privacy of your own bath and work on those five steps to lovely feet at the same time.”
“Such impatience, Master Lupin.” Sirius grinned at him, showing a set of cake stained teeth, and then let out a heavy sigh of mock resignation. “As none of you can wait, let’s see who the esteemed Aunt Tara, three times a very merry widow, and one of life’s true survivors, is giving her pearls of wisdom to this week. And then let’s see if Auntie Siri can give them some sensible advice instead.”
“We’re a bit pushed for time.” Peter looked at his watch. “Not long till dinner.”
“I don’t think any of us will be starving after this.” James nodded at the cake remains on his plate and blew his cheeks out feelingly.
“Well yes, but-“
“So no worries if we are a bit late then?”
“Oh no, it’s just-“ Peter’s voice tailed away again. “I … don’t like to rush Auntie Siri and her advice giving,” he offered after a second’s pause.
It sounded rather odd to Remus, especially when Peter was such a fan of this, but Sirius said, “Let’s stop mucking around then!” and flicked quickly to the back of the magazine. Remus was left to wonder for a moment just what motives they all did have for what had started out as a bit of a laugh. Now it still was a laugh, but, perhaps they were all like him, in being somewhere between gently amused and highly embarrassed (especially if they were found out), but rather curious and hopeful of learning something about the mysteries of girls all at the same.
Of course, he already had learnt a few surprising things. That women didn’t necessarily like you to have your hair looking tidy for some reason, which was a relief as infrequent cuts and thick hair meant his rarely was. That stubble was considered sexy when soft and a big turn-off when it left red marks all over your face (or elsewhere), and, rather surprisingly, a lot of them seemed to like looking at bare forearms and hands.
He tended to roll his sleeves up, anyway, to make them last at the elbows. Though he didn’t think his arms were particularly attractive normally, and couldn’t imagine anyone looking at one of them right now without being horrified…
“So are you doing this then?” Sirius seemed to be directing the question at him.
“What?” Remus took his eyes off the dried stain on his arm.
“Reading the questions out? It’s your turn.”
“Oh, yeah. Fine.” Remus propped himself up on an unwilling elbow, expecting the magazine to be chucked unceremoniously at him, but Sirius flicked his wand quickly at it and it floated across the room to land feather-light by his hand.
“I don’t want any on…” Sirius scowled.
“What?”
“You know.”
“Periods?” Remus asked innocently.
“Yeah.” The scowl deepened. “Nothing like that or any personal bathroom stuff.”
“I’m sure none of us want them either, Padfoot.”
“Just… You know. Make sure you censor them first. Like James didn’t.”
“And how was I supposed to know?” James held his hands up in query. “It started off with her moaning about having heavy legs. I thought she wanted a diet or something for her thighs.”
“If you’d had the brains to read ahead-“
“There should be some kind of warning system-“
“Why didn’t you read the end first before we all felt sick?”
“I will check!” Remus said loudly across the pair of them as he scanned the page. He bit his lip to hold back the chuckle that threatened to come to the surface. Some of these were perfect for Auntie Siri to get to grips with.
And one of them he rather fancied knowing the answer to himself.
“Alright.” He gave a little cough and grinned at their expectant faces. “This is a bit of a sad one to start with. ‘My wife has left me after eighteen years of marriage and says she wants to find herself. We are both in our forties, but she looks much younger than me and has men after her all the time. She’s rented an apartment and goes out each night with all her single friends. I pay all her bills and she says she still loves me, but needs her own space and I can only see her once a week. I don’t know whether to try and win her back or how to go about it. What do you think, Aunt Tara?’”
James sniffed. “Sounds like she’s found herself to me alright. Poor bastard.”
“What’s Aunt Tara say?” asked Peter.
“Mmn. Suggests building up his own circle of friends, joining something like The Goodlife Hobby Club, giving notice he’s going to stop paying the bills and, when he’s ready, to join the Solitaire Dating Agency through which she had the great good fortune to meet her second husband.”
“Isn’t that the one that that only lasted three months before he fell down the stairs while drunk in a night club?” Peter said.
“I think so. Not sure that’s a great advert for marital bliss.” Remus looked up. “Auntie Siri?”
Sirius was lying back against the pillow with his eyes closed, his lips pursed in consideration. “Easy,” he said. “He needs to quit the moping and grow his hair. Use the money that was paying her bills to buy a pair of low-slung skinny jeans, a set of leathers and a large motorbike. Ask the youngest and most attractive woman he knows if she’d like to go for a ride and cruise up and down outside the wife’s place sounding the horn. Then go and do the same outside her friends’ places. Send his wife an anonymous letter supposedly from a woman who’s slept with him, and is apologising now she’s realised he’s married. Mention at least three times how insatiable he was and that there’s been a complaint about the noise from the neighbours. Join the dating agency, tell them he’s got a bike, likes Indian and Italian food, has a troubled, mysterious past he doesn’t like to talk about and sit back and wait for the owls to arrive. Next question.”
Peter laughed and clapped; James gave an approving thumbs up. Remus grinned and did as he was told.
“’The dog in the house next door to us barks all day long while its owners are out and it’s driving my husband and I mad. We want to say something, but don’t want to upset them as we don’t want an argument, especially as our cat uses their lawn as a toilet. Would putting a note through the door do the trick and what can we say on it?'”
“I can’t believe that!” Sirius had his eyes open now. “They need hexing for leaving the dog alone all day!”
James looked over at him and rolled his eyes. “What do you think, Moony? You’re good at both diplomacy and sorting obnoxious dogs out.”
“Well I don’t see how the note through the door is going to work. I only know one dog that can read.” Remus laughed as the others groaned. “These questions are all a bit boring; I’ll skip the one from the mum asking about how to get her new baby into a feeding and sleeping routine.”
“Every four hours.” Peter chipped in knowledgeably and, Remus thought, rather scarily.
“Where’s the sex ones?” asked James. “Down the bottom of the page? Stop messing around, Moony.”
“I’m trying to build up some tension here. But as you insist. ‘My husband and I constantly argue because he says sex five times a week isn’t excessive and I say it is. Who’s right and is it abnormal that he won’t take his cardigan or socks off when we do make love?’”
“Depends where he’s wearing them, I’d have thought.” Sirius frowned. “Are you reading that right; five times a week is excessive? More like a minimum unless you’re about one hundred and twenty.”
“Quality not quantity?” suggested Remus and then promptly wished he hadn’t.
“So that’s what you were doing with Trudy in the Astronomy Tower?” Sirius gave him an innocent look. “A quality control inspection?”
“I’m sure I’ve said till I was blue in the face that the door shut-“
“Knowing Trudy, I’m sure you were blue in the face. She doesn’t take no for an answer.”
“Just because you didn’t say no to her doesn’t mean I couldn’t.” Remus thought it best not to mention that it was no as in ‘No, I’m sorry, I’ve really got to go and write that Runespoor essay now, Trudy. Catch you later!’ Nor did he want to mention the very fast walking involved in fleeing - leaving - the scene, while wondering if he was out of his tiny little mind.
“Compared to everybody else,” Sirius had managed to find the hurt dignity in his voice which had eluded Remus, “I’m perfectly normal and simply make the most of the occasional opportunities I get. It’s only amongst Virgins United in here that I seem to be regarded as some kind of tart.”
“We don’t get the same occasional opportunities,” Remus said, thinking, as he often did, that a few not-that-sober kisses after a party and a bit of hand holding did not a love life make. Especially as she’d cut him dead the next day and ever since.
“I’ve told you there’s a girl back home-“ Peter started, but Sirius interrupted rudely to say, “Yeah, but it’s funny how she never writes, does she? I mean there’s Prongs saving himself for the momentous day Lily finally notices him under her feet-“
“Padfoot.” James grinned but there was an edge to his voice.
“-which is all very sweet, but I thought it was supposed to be the other way round? And you do get opportunities, Moony, you just do sod all about them. Girls like you, they talk to you, and all you do is dither around instead of going for it. Have we got to nag you into action about this as well and give you permission that it’s okay?”
“Probably.” Remus looked at James, not wanting to get into this with Sirius. Who took the simplistic view and didn’t understand the doubts about fairness, and a hundred other things, which sometimes filled his head. And sometimes didn’t, which was worrying in a different way.
“Why are you waiting for Lily?” he asked James, who shrugged uncomfortably, the colour rising in his cheeks.
He knew James would answer though. That was the difference between them; James didn’t avoid things.
“Other girls don’t interest me. They’re not her.” The flush grew even brighter, but he held Remus’ gaze and it was Remus, in the end, who turned away to take a sip of his abandoned tea and feel the ache in his limbs more bitterly than before.
“Getting back to the point of the question.” Sirius was looking at him. “You need to ditch your cardigan.”
“What?” The tea slopped over the edge of the mug and dripped down his hand onto the floor.
“That old brown thing of yours, Cardi Boy. Women don’t think it’s an object of sexual desire, a fact which is obvious to everyone except you.”
“I don’t-“ Remus spluttered, unable for a second to form a single, coherent sentence. He shook his hand irritably to rid it of tea. “I have one cardigan, which I wore once, when all my jumpers were out of commission. Why do you keep going on about it? I like it and the pockets are useful.”
“Nothing else is. You’ll never get laid unless you-“ Sirius glanced round the room and seemed to change his mind about what he was going to say next. “This is boring. Let’s do another question.”
Remus nodded, still inwardly fuming. “Yes, let’s. Right, we have the twenty-something witch who is going away for a first romantic weekend break with her boyfriend, and who wants to know what kind of underwear to take.”
Sirius grinned. “There’s only three types of bra known to man.” He looked expectantly at James.
“The Rawhide one - round ‘em up and point ‘em in the right direction.” James looked in turn at Peter, who said eagerly, “Glass bra - you can smash it open and grab ‘em.”
“Which leaves the Contrary bra - where you spend hours fumbling round the back and then realise it opens at the front.” Sirius threw back his head and laughed, as did the others.
“It’s astounding, isn’t it?” Remus said, to no one in particular, apart from the ceiling, over the howls of laughter. Peter looked as if he was going to have a fit.
“What? That you can’t think of a fourth?” Sirius wiped what looked like a tear away. “Could you imagine Aunt Tara actually telling her that?”
“No, that jokes that old are still going strong. But I’d like an answer to this next question. ‘How do you know if someone wants you to kiss them and you’re not going to offend them?’”
“They say ‘Yes, please.’” Peter was holding his side now.
“When their tongue’s down your throat, it’s bit of a clue.” Sirius looked at Peter and they both fell sideways on their respective beds, howling face down into the blankets.
“Oh, for Merlin’s sake.” Remus looked to James for signs of sanity, but there was no help there. “You are such a prefect sometimes, Moony,” James sniggered.
“Yeah, that’s me,” Remus muttered under his breath. “A boring, cardigan-wearing, never been laid, spell work all over the place prefect.” He raised his voice. “For the interest of anyone out there who may still be paying any attention-“
“Moony’s getting all pissy,” choked Peter.
“It’ll be detention next,” Sirius said incoherently from his position face down.
“One hundred lines on not talking about bras in the bedroom.” Peter buried his face in the crook of his elbow. “I must not mention cup size or talk about my straps.”
“-the last question says, ‘I have a friend who-‘“
James pulled a face. “Everyone knows it’s not ‘a friend’ at all!”
“’-is one of a small group, who have been friends for a long time now. Sometimes my friend feels it’s hard to keep up as they are all attractive, popular figures, who are very clever, and everyone admires them-‘”
“Bet they’re total pains in the arse really,” James said as Sirius, still grinning, propped himself up on an elbow to listen.
“’-while my friend wonders if they look down on her at all? She thinks she’s not special in any way like they are and is scared that one day they might not want to be friends with her because of that. What should I say to her, Aunt Tara?’”
There was an odd little minute of silence as even Peter had stopped laughing.
“And, no, I didn’t write it, moaning about you lot,” Remus said with a grin, wanting to break the quiet for a reason he couldn’t put a name to.
“Thank God.” Sirius gave an exaggerated sigh of relief. “Only it sounds just like you having another depressed moment because your Shrinking Potion has somehow doubled the size of the cauldron and your close friends have to sort it out for you.”
“That would be the time my close friends put so many daisy roots in it to compensate that, far from shrinking things, everything was nearly invisible?”
“A minor miscalculation. We got you out of it. We always do get ourselves out of everything when we stick together.” Sirius was looking at him a little oddly.
“You don’t really think that, do you, Moony?” James had the same look on his face.
“Think what? That you’re complete morons who can’t even chop daisy roots up properly? Well, now you mention it-“
“Like the letter writer says,” James said quietly.
“Merlin, no!” Remus frowned. What on earth were they thinking? He opened his mouth to say something else and then caught sight of Peter, lying utterly still and rigid on his bed.
He remembered Peter’s strange reluctance to hear this week’s letters.
Surely he can’t ever think that? Surely he wouldn’t have…
“Only I know you had a terrible transformation this time, “James was saying, “and I know we take the piss sometimes when you just have to put a brave face on it all, but we’ve learnt from it and we’ll take better care next time.”
“Look.” Remus dragged his eyes away from the still figure. “You’ve made me forget all about it. Made me laugh. That’s what you always do and-and, we’re all special, aren’t we? We all bring something to us being friends that no one else could do. Don’t we, Peter?” He turned his head, speaking from the heart, speaking the truth, and hoping desperately he was saying the right thing. “You-you… brought that fabulous cake.”
He cursed himself furiously for not being able to think of something better.
For a moment he thought Peter wasn’t going to reply and then the small, round face smiled. “I did, didn’t I?” he said.
“Which reminds me - time for a second slice.” Sirius swung his legs off the bed and headed for the plate. “You want another one, Peter, before it all goes? As you’re the hero who got it instead of those pathetic scones we usually get lumbered with.”
The smile grew broader. “Yeah, I’ll have another. I expect that letter writer was just having a really crap day and wrote on the spur of the moment, don’t you think? She probably regretted it right away and wanted to take it back.”
“Probably heard those bra jokes again and it tipped her over the edge.” Remus risked sounding light-hearted and was relieved beyond measure when Peter laughed with James.
“What’s Auntie Siri going to tell her then?” Peter was so relaxed and cheerful looking again that Remus wondered if he’d misunderstood the whole thing.
He probably had. Not least because no one in their right mind, having seen a werewolf up close, would think that was special.
“Hmm?” Sirius had just crammed at least half a slice of cake in his mouth, and it took him a moment of hasty chewing before he could reply. “Oh… Not to be such a silly cow and that friends stick together and no one’s ever left out. And that everyone gets to be a miserable sod once in a while and no one thinks any the worse of them. Is that what the incredible Aunt Tara says?”
“Something vaguely along those lines if you read it with your eyes shut and in a thick fog.” Remus raised his mug in mock salute. “Well done Auntie Siri, solving everyone’s problems for another week.”
“Well done us all.” James had raised his mug too as Sirius gave a mock bow. “No problem too big or small for us to make ten times worse.”
“To friendship.” Sirius raised his. “And five steps to lovely feet and finding new bra jokes to annoy Moony.”
“To friendship.” Peter laughed; his face content. Whatever the crisis had been, it was clearly over.
“Friendship.” As Remus smiled and drank, lying back and looking round at them all, he caught sight of the ugly bloodstain on his sleeve.
It could only be his imagination, of course, but it seemed to him to look far more insignificant than it had before.
Grimmauld Place, 1996.
“Wotcher.”
Sirius, busy pouring himself a mug of tea, was caught in momentary surprise as out the corner of his eye he saw Tonks push the kitchen door open instead of Remus. She padded in wearing what seemed an odd assortment of clothing consisting of jeans, black t-shirt, purple socks and an over-sized, shapeless dark cardigan, which was presumably meant to protect her against the chill of the morning.
“Early shift again?” he said, thinking that she’d found it easier to stay over once or twice now since he’d made the offer, Grimmauld being that bit nearer to the Ministry than her own place. He could have sworn she’d gone home last night though; he’d seen her standing at the door with her cloak in her hand as though she was off.
“Mmn.” He heard her stretch and yawn behind him. “Any tea going spare?”
“I’ll put some more on. You won’t want mine, will you?”
“Ooh, no, ta. Don’t know how you can drink it so strong.” Another yawn.
“Puts hairs on your chest.” Sirius grinned and turned round to face her. “Which you probably don’t want any more of so-“
He stopped with the mug half way to his mouth.
Tonks wasn’t beautiful in any conventional sense. She didn’t have provocative features or perfect bone structure. Instead, she was a compilation of warmth and affection, perception and wit, which matched the liveliness of her expression and the sense of fun that shone out of those big dark eyes.
But this morning…
This morning she took his breath away.
The door creaked painfully open again and Remus, hair always that bit too long for neatness, and looking as if it hadn’t yet seen a comb anyway, stepped through it with a polite smile and a quiet, “Morning.” Sirius cast his mind back to last night when Remus had seen her to the door. He’d glanced down himself from the top of the stairs, hearing their footsteps, but they hadn’t been speaking at all, just standing there very composed and serious. Remus had been resting one hand on the door as though about to open it, the other brushed a stray piece of hair back from her face. A casual, easy gesture that a friend would make.
Except Remus didn’t make casual gestures, he made very careful ones.
The signs had been there for weeks now he came to think about it. He’d even mentioned them once or twice and Remus had smoothly put him off, while Tonks alternated between looking uncertain or determined, finding more and more reasons to linger here. But he’d assumed…
He’d assumed Remus would wait for him. Would need him, need his advice, and wait to be pushed into it, like in the old days. And he’d been busy with Harry staying, and then, when Harry had gone, the dull, quiet days since had slipped by in a blur almost without him noticing.
No one waited for him nowadays. It was him who sought out Remus' advice all the time, after all.
Sirius looked at Tonks again. Who was replying to Remus' polite enquiry quietly and demurely - Tonks was never demure - confirming that she had spent a very comfortable night, thanks very much. Asking if he fancied some toast and was there any raspberry jam to be had around here? Her tone was subdued, but her eyes danced and sparkled against her flushed, creamy skin. Her hair was the brightest, most vibrant of pinks, gleaming in the rays of the early morning sun as it streamed through the window.
She was literally glowing. Lit from within.
He looked at Remus, at the small crooked smile on his face which hadn’t wavered since he’d come through the door. He looked as if he’d shed ten years. Looked like a young, hopeful boy again, with a future of possibilities he scarcely believed in in front of him again.
Had he taken his eyes off her yet?
Sirius felt a shaft of pain go through him that could be joy, or envy, or the familiar acute ache of longing for the past and the people who should be standing here with him to see this.
It seemed very important to decide once and for all that it was joy that he was feeling so he did.
He waited his moment; waited till Remus had poured himself a mug of tea and sat down, raising it to his lips. Holding back his own grin by clenching his jaw fiercely as he looked at Tonks again, and noticed the baggy garment that all but buried her and was definitely not her own.
When it was the perfect time he spoke.
“See you got the cardi off at long last then, Moony.”
The mug jerked violently, and involuntarily, and the tea slopped messily onto the floor.
Sirius flung his head back and roared with laughter.