Harry Potter and the Very Advanced Copy
Author: shaggydogstail
Title: Harry Potter and the Very Advanced Copy
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all associated characters belong to JK Rowling. The Rainbow Fish belongs to Marcus Pfister.
Summary: Sirius is quite determined to get Harry the best Christening present a child ever had. Naturally his quest involves Remus, offers of sexual rewards, time travel, and discussions about communism, eggs, and Lily's breasts.
Remus should have known to expect it, of course. Sirius never did anything by halves, or the normal, convential way; there wasn't a single task, from getting Sorted to tying his bootlaces that Sirius couldn't find a way of being difficult about. (Not that Remus always minded that - his opportunities for a spot of late-night bedhopping would have been severely limited if Sirius had been snuggled down in the dungeons like he was supposed to.)
Sirius had been known to cause international incidents over the buttering of toast, so it was only natural that choosing a Christening gift for his soon-to-be Godson (something that, Remus grudgingly admitted, actually was important) became a three-act drama. Not for Sirius the standard engraved silver rattle or commemorative Bible. No, Harry's gift had to be special.
Three whole days of anxious list making, debating, and scanning of owl-order catalogues were finally brought tantalisingly close to an end by Sirius sitting up very straight at the kitchen table, putting down his quill and announcing, 'I've decided.'
'Oh, good,' said Remus, resisting the temptation to faint with relief on the spot. 'What are you going to get him?'
'A book,' said Sirius proudly.
'That's nice,' said Remus. He couldn't help but feel a little underwhelmed - after all this fuss, a book was the best Sirius could come up with? Remus had expected something that involved advanced Transfiguration and the bending of several laws at the very least.
'You are unimpressed,' said Sirius. 'I can tell, you've got that face on.'
'I've got my face on,' said Remus. 'I always have my face on: whose face did you expect me to have on?'
'The expression on your face,' replied Sirius. 'You're humouring me. I can always tell when you're humouring me.'
Sirius couldn't, in fact, always tell when Remus was humouring him, but Remus felt it would serve his purposes better in future if Sirius believed that he could. Better to sacrifice the battle to win the war and all that.
'No, a book's fine,' said Remus, pulling up a chair and sitting down at the table across from Sirius. 'It's just...well, I thought you were going for something a bit more exciting.'
'Books can be very exciting, Moony,' said Sirius, 'especially ones with teeth. And that sticky one with tentacles what used to tickle Professor Kettleburn...Anyway, that's not the point. The point is that by giving Harry a book as his Christening present I will be helping to shape and develop his mind in the manner of an imminently respectable role model.'
He looked very pleased with him self. Undeservedly so, Remus felt.
'Yes,' said Remus slowly. 'Padfoot, I realise you have a very high regard for the boy's intelligence, but you do know he can't read, don't you?'
Sirius looked at Remus as though he were insane, or at least rather simple. 'I can read.'
'Oh. Of course.' Remus squinted, trying to imagine Sirius reading bedtime stories to a drooling infant. It made his head hurt. 'So, did you have any particular book in mind?'
Sirius frowned, picking up his quill again and tapping it against the piles of parchment strewn across the table. 'I'm not sure,' he said. 'I suppose I ought to find something Harry might be interested in.'
'Blankies?' suggested Remus helpfully. 'Milk?'
'He is awfully fond of Lily's breasts,' mused Sirius.
'I don't think there are any books about Lily's breasts,' said Remus. 'Not unless Prongs has a secret life as a publisher he's not telling us about.'
'No, not really,' agreed Sirius. 'Anyway, I'm not sure that any books we could find about breasts would be really appropriate. I was thinking more about story books.'
Ah, well, when Sirius put it like that it did make a lot more sense.
'Only,' Sirius continued, 'I don't really know much about children's books, what with not being a child and all.'
'You used to be a child,' Remus pointed out. 'Quite recently, in fact. What books did you like to read when you were little?'
Sirius furrowed his brow and fiddled with a bit of parchment. 'I think we'd be better off sticking with the porn than going with any of the books my parents used to read me. They were a bit...gruesome. All blood and guts.'
'Well, traditional fairy-tales tend to be a bit grim.'
'To be honest, it was more pure-bloods and the splattered guts of assorted muggles. And the Meskin the Mudblood Mangler trilogy.'
'I see your point,' conceded Remus. 'Well, why don't we just go to the bookshop and have a look? I'm sure you'll be able to find something suitable about, I don't know, Quidditch heroes and helpful bowtruckles or something.'
'Yes, all right.' Sirius stood up and pushed his hair back out of his eyes. 'Only we'll have to find a Muggle bookshop - I do not think that helpful bowtruckles would be appropriate either.'
'What's wrong with...' Remus trailed off, looking at Sirius curiously. 'Padfoot, are there books about helpful bowtruckles?'
Sirius nodded. 'Andromeda gave me one for Christmas when I was four. She meant well, of course, but I wouldn't like to run into one again.'
Noticing Sirius' obvious discomfort, Remus adopted a mock-sympathetic expression. 'Was it a very frightening book, Padfoot?'
Sirius sniffed. 'It troubled me.' He sniffed. 'We shall say no more about it.'
Remus shrugged and followed Sirius towards the door. 'If you like.'
He made a mental note to bribe James for the details of Sirius' secret bowtruckle phobia later.
~*~
Several hours later, Remus found himself sitting on a miniature wooden train with books in each carriage, yet more books scattered at his feet and an increasingly irascible Sirius flitting about. Sirius had already rejected The Very Hungry Caterpillar for giving false hope (overeating does not make you pretty, just ask my cousin Narcissa), The Tiger Who Came To Tea for being too unrealistic (the tiger would've just eaten the little girl. And anyway, you can't drink all the water in the tap, it comes from a resevoir; we did plumbing in Muggle Studies), any and all books concerning Muggle idea of magic (just wrong), and Noddy for just being boring (I was nearly in a coma by the second page, Moony).
Sirius flopped down on the floor beside Remus, breathing out a dramatic sigh. 'I don't know if we're going to find anything here,' he said. 'Honestly, I'm starting to despair of the state of children's literature.'
Remus hesitated, wrestling with his conscience (it was a lively and dramatic battle but, much like the wrestling matches his Auntie Violet used to watch on Saturday afternoons, it was mostly just for show). He knew of the perfect book, the very best children's book that ever did exist, but he had no way of telling Sirius about it without revealing a Very Big Secret about his past history of doing Very Illegal Things. He wasn't sure it was the right time or place for that - finding out about Remus breaking the law always made Sirius a bit frisky, and they were in the children's section, after all.
But Sirius was looking all woe-begone and dejected, and if he got any more distressed he'd start sulking, or drinking, or telling the story about the time Kreacher burnt his favourite teddy, Lissy Hissy, for the nth time. Adorable as Sirius' pout was, Remus felt he owed it to him to cheer him up. He leant down, and patted Sirius on the shoulder.
'Don't worry, Padfoot. I know where we can find the perfect book.'
'Really?' asked Sirius, a glint of hope twinkling in his eye behind the shadow of anthropomorphic character-induced gloom.
'Really,' Remus assured him. 'But not here. We'll have to nip back home and, er, get something first.'
Sirius raised an eyebrow in question, but Remus pretended not to notice as he climbed out of the little wooden book train. Best to get all the awkward questions over in one go, later on.
~*~
Remus had hoped Sirius might be distracted by the offer of sex or pudding, thereby delaying the inevitable by half-an-hour or so, but he'd underestimated Sirius' tenacity. Really, bloke was like a dog with a bone sometimes.
'Well,' demanded Sirius. 'Where can we get this oh-so-wonderful book for my godson then?'
Remus took a deep breath. 'We have to go,' he said slowly, 'into the future.'
'We...' Sirius' voice trailed off, and his mouth was left flapping open uselessly. 'What?'
'It sort of...hasn't been published yet,' said Remus.
Sirius just stared at him, so Remus decided it was probably best to start at the beginning.
'Well, you remember how I told you that my mum used be an Unspeakable?'
'How could I forget?' Sirius grinned. 'I'm always happy to hear about your mum and her career in umentionables.'
'Yes,' said Remus slowly. 'Well, anyway, she couldn't afford a childminder or anything when I was little, so on the days when my dad was too drunk to find his own hands she liked to send me somewhere safe while she was at work.'
'What's all this got to do with Harry's book?'
'I'm getting there, Padfoot, I'm getting there,' said Remus. 'Anyway, she didn't want anyone to see me out and about on my own, so she used to send me to all these Muggle libraries. Er...in the future.'
Sirius was doing that staring thing again. Honestly, it wasn't that strange. OK, well, maybe it was, but there was no need for Sirius to draw attention to it.
'She worked in the Time Room for a bit,' Remus continued, as much to fill the silence as anything else, 'so it was easy enough for her to steal me a time turner. She didn't want the Ministry to find out that she'd been leaving a junior werewolf unattended, so she thought I'd be less likely to be spotted in a Muggle library - '
' - in the future,' Sirius finished for him, looking as though he felt it was the maddest thing he'd ever heard. He shook his head. 'So, are you going to tell me about this book then?'
Remus grinned. 'I can do better than that,' he said. He turned and walked towards the bedroom (knowing full well that Sirius would follow him) and opened his sock drawer. At the back of the drawer was a golden disc, slightly larger than a galleon, hollowed out, and with an hourglass fastened in the centre.
Sirius' eyes lit up as Remus held the time-turner up in front of him.
'Moony,' he said, voice rich with admiration. 'I don't think I've ever seen one that big before.'
Remus rolled his eyes as Sirius took a step towards him, placing his hands on Remus' hips and leaning his head into Remus' neck. Sirius could be awfully predictable sometimes.
'Padfoot,' he said, batting Sirius' hands away. 'Harry's present, remember?'
'Mmm, 'course,' murmured Sirius. 'Best we get going. Although...' He pulled Remus back towards him, pressing their bodies together. 'When we get back, you're getting a reward.'
'Well, if you insist,' said Remus, reluctantly disentangling himself from Sirius' embrace.
After all, it wouldn't take them long to nip forwards a decade and pick up the book. Sirius would have plenty of time to reward him later.
~*~
Several spins of the Timer Turner, a quick bit of Apparition, a short walk, and a spot of rummaging later, and Remus had found what he was looking for.
'The Rainbow Fish,' he said, an almost reverential tone to his voice as he handed the book to Sirius. 'It was my favourite book when I was little.'
Sirius accepted the book from him, casting his eyes over the rainbow-coloured, sparkling illustrations before looking back up at Remus, one eyebrow quirked up in question.
'What?' asked Remus.
'Nothing.' Sirius shrugged and sat down on the nearest beanbag. 'It's very pretty. Remind me, Moony, how long did it take you to admit that you're gay?'
Remus bristled defensively, but said nothing.
'Oh, and how do you pronounce the author's surname?' asked Sirius impishly.
'Shut up and read,' said Remus.
'So the P's silent, then?'
Remus ignored him, deciding that any bickering would only distract Sirius from the unspeakable cuteness of the Rainbow Fish.
'Well?' he asked when Sirius closed the book. 'Do you think Harry will like it?'
Sirius wrinkled his nose and frowned. 'I'm not sure,' he said. 'Those other fish were mean to the Rainbow Fish - I don't know why he wanted to be friends with them anyway.'
'Well, he was lonely.'
'He had to rip his own scales off!' said Sirius. 'What kind of friend is someone if they'll only talk to you if you pull bits of your own body off first?'
Remus' heart sank. He could not believe Sirius was disparaging his beloved Rainbow Fish. 'It's an allegory, Padfoot,' he said wearily.
Sirius shot him a Do-You-Think-I'm-Stupid Look. Remus retorted with a Well-I-Do-Sometimes-Wonder Glance. Sirius rolled his eyes, and then resumed his earnest expression. 'When we first met at school, I had three boxes of Ice Mice and you didn't have any. You didn't say you wouldn't be friends with me unless I gave you some sweets.'
'No, but you shared them anyway,' said Remus. 'And I like you better for being generous than I would if you were greedy and selfish. Besides, the Rainbow Fish was awfully vain.'
'Well, he had good cause to be.' Sirius sounded a tad defensive on the point. 'Look at how lovely and sparkly he is,' he added, jabbing the cover with his finger.
'He is very lovely and sparkly,' agreed Remus, gazing wistfully at the illustration. He shook his head and pulled himself together. 'Of course, the book has caused some controversy.'
Sirius looked doubtful. 'How controversial can a children's book be?'
'We were just arguing about it.'
'Moony, we once nearly split up over an argument about whether or not you should store eggs in the fridge.'
Remus shuddered at the memory: he'd acquiesced in the end, magnanimously declaring that he loved Sirius more than he feared salmonella, and agreed that the eggs could go in the cupboard. Still, Sirius had been very enthusiastic in his efforts to reward Remus for giving in, and so far he hadn't found out about the Cooling Charms Remus cast on the egg boxes every morning.
'OK, so maybe we're not the best example,' Remus agreed. 'But lots of people have argued about the Rainbow Fish - there's been all sorts of right-wing nutters going on about how the Rainbow Fish promotes communism.'
Sirius' eyebrows were doing the Logic-Do-Not-Forsake-Me Dance. Remus pressed ahead, regardless. 'They said it was like Marxism for pre-schoolers.'
'I've read Marx,' said Sirius. 'There were no fishes in it. Unless the pictures of seaweed are meant to form some rudimentary illustration of the base-superstructure model, which seems unlikely.'
'I think it's more the redistribution of wealth theme...'
'I think it's fucking stupid.'
'It's not me saying it, you know,' said Remus. 'I like the Rainbow Fish.'
Sirius' expression softened. 'You really want Harry to have it?'
Remus took the book from Sirius' hands and tilted it back and forth. 'Look, Padfoot,' he said. 'It's all shimmery, just like a real fish.'
'Yes,' said Sirius, draping his arm over Remus' shoulder. 'I suppose it is.'
~*~
As it turned out, Sirius ended up buying three copies of The Rainbow Fish. The first was wrapped in ribbons before it was presented to Harry on the day of his Christening, and the second was treated with special 'baby puke repelling charms' to stop it going the way of the first.
The third involved dangerously criminal amounts of time-travel by Sirius, and came as part of a box-set, including the sequel (Rainbow Fish to the Rescue, which Sirius approved of far more than the original) and a little toy Rainbow Fish, with glitter on.
Remus thought the gesture was very sweet, even though he was a grown man and not at all interested in children's books, far less toys. He certainly didn't sleep with the little toy fish when Sirius was away overnight on Order business.
That would be ridiculous.
THE END
originally posted to my journal in 2007
Title: Harry Potter and the Very Advanced Copy
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all associated characters belong to JK Rowling. The Rainbow Fish belongs to Marcus Pfister.
Summary: Sirius is quite determined to get Harry the best Christening present a child ever had. Naturally his quest involves Remus, offers of sexual rewards, time travel, and discussions about communism, eggs, and Lily's breasts.
Remus should have known to expect it, of course. Sirius never did anything by halves, or the normal, convential way; there wasn't a single task, from getting Sorted to tying his bootlaces that Sirius couldn't find a way of being difficult about. (Not that Remus always minded that - his opportunities for a spot of late-night bedhopping would have been severely limited if Sirius had been snuggled down in the dungeons like he was supposed to.)
Sirius had been known to cause international incidents over the buttering of toast, so it was only natural that choosing a Christening gift for his soon-to-be Godson (something that, Remus grudgingly admitted, actually was important) became a three-act drama. Not for Sirius the standard engraved silver rattle or commemorative Bible. No, Harry's gift had to be special.
Three whole days of anxious list making, debating, and scanning of owl-order catalogues were finally brought tantalisingly close to an end by Sirius sitting up very straight at the kitchen table, putting down his quill and announcing, 'I've decided.'
'Oh, good,' said Remus, resisting the temptation to faint with relief on the spot. 'What are you going to get him?'
'A book,' said Sirius proudly.
'That's nice,' said Remus. He couldn't help but feel a little underwhelmed - after all this fuss, a book was the best Sirius could come up with? Remus had expected something that involved advanced Transfiguration and the bending of several laws at the very least.
'You are unimpressed,' said Sirius. 'I can tell, you've got that face on.'
'I've got my face on,' said Remus. 'I always have my face on: whose face did you expect me to have on?'
'The expression on your face,' replied Sirius. 'You're humouring me. I can always tell when you're humouring me.'
Sirius couldn't, in fact, always tell when Remus was humouring him, but Remus felt it would serve his purposes better in future if Sirius believed that he could. Better to sacrifice the battle to win the war and all that.
'No, a book's fine,' said Remus, pulling up a chair and sitting down at the table across from Sirius. 'It's just...well, I thought you were going for something a bit more exciting.'
'Books can be very exciting, Moony,' said Sirius, 'especially ones with teeth. And that sticky one with tentacles what used to tickle Professor Kettleburn...Anyway, that's not the point. The point is that by giving Harry a book as his Christening present I will be helping to shape and develop his mind in the manner of an imminently respectable role model.'
He looked very pleased with him self. Undeservedly so, Remus felt.
'Yes,' said Remus slowly. 'Padfoot, I realise you have a very high regard for the boy's intelligence, but you do know he can't read, don't you?'
Sirius looked at Remus as though he were insane, or at least rather simple. 'I can read.'
'Oh. Of course.' Remus squinted, trying to imagine Sirius reading bedtime stories to a drooling infant. It made his head hurt. 'So, did you have any particular book in mind?'
Sirius frowned, picking up his quill again and tapping it against the piles of parchment strewn across the table. 'I'm not sure,' he said. 'I suppose I ought to find something Harry might be interested in.'
'Blankies?' suggested Remus helpfully. 'Milk?'
'He is awfully fond of Lily's breasts,' mused Sirius.
'I don't think there are any books about Lily's breasts,' said Remus. 'Not unless Prongs has a secret life as a publisher he's not telling us about.'
'No, not really,' agreed Sirius. 'Anyway, I'm not sure that any books we could find about breasts would be really appropriate. I was thinking more about story books.'
Ah, well, when Sirius put it like that it did make a lot more sense.
'Only,' Sirius continued, 'I don't really know much about children's books, what with not being a child and all.'
'You used to be a child,' Remus pointed out. 'Quite recently, in fact. What books did you like to read when you were little?'
Sirius furrowed his brow and fiddled with a bit of parchment. 'I think we'd be better off sticking with the porn than going with any of the books my parents used to read me. They were a bit...gruesome. All blood and guts.'
'Well, traditional fairy-tales tend to be a bit grim.'
'To be honest, it was more pure-bloods and the splattered guts of assorted muggles. And the Meskin the Mudblood Mangler trilogy.'
'I see your point,' conceded Remus. 'Well, why don't we just go to the bookshop and have a look? I'm sure you'll be able to find something suitable about, I don't know, Quidditch heroes and helpful bowtruckles or something.'
'Yes, all right.' Sirius stood up and pushed his hair back out of his eyes. 'Only we'll have to find a Muggle bookshop - I do not think that helpful bowtruckles would be appropriate either.'
'What's wrong with...' Remus trailed off, looking at Sirius curiously. 'Padfoot, are there books about helpful bowtruckles?'
Sirius nodded. 'Andromeda gave me one for Christmas when I was four. She meant well, of course, but I wouldn't like to run into one again.'
Noticing Sirius' obvious discomfort, Remus adopted a mock-sympathetic expression. 'Was it a very frightening book, Padfoot?'
Sirius sniffed. 'It troubled me.' He sniffed. 'We shall say no more about it.'
Remus shrugged and followed Sirius towards the door. 'If you like.'
He made a mental note to bribe James for the details of Sirius' secret bowtruckle phobia later.
~*~
Several hours later, Remus found himself sitting on a miniature wooden train with books in each carriage, yet more books scattered at his feet and an increasingly irascible Sirius flitting about. Sirius had already rejected The Very Hungry Caterpillar for giving false hope (overeating does not make you pretty, just ask my cousin Narcissa), The Tiger Who Came To Tea for being too unrealistic (the tiger would've just eaten the little girl. And anyway, you can't drink all the water in the tap, it comes from a resevoir; we did plumbing in Muggle Studies), any and all books concerning Muggle idea of magic (just wrong), and Noddy for just being boring (I was nearly in a coma by the second page, Moony).
Sirius flopped down on the floor beside Remus, breathing out a dramatic sigh. 'I don't know if we're going to find anything here,' he said. 'Honestly, I'm starting to despair of the state of children's literature.'
Remus hesitated, wrestling with his conscience (it was a lively and dramatic battle but, much like the wrestling matches his Auntie Violet used to watch on Saturday afternoons, it was mostly just for show). He knew of the perfect book, the very best children's book that ever did exist, but he had no way of telling Sirius about it without revealing a Very Big Secret about his past history of doing Very Illegal Things. He wasn't sure it was the right time or place for that - finding out about Remus breaking the law always made Sirius a bit frisky, and they were in the children's section, after all.
But Sirius was looking all woe-begone and dejected, and if he got any more distressed he'd start sulking, or drinking, or telling the story about the time Kreacher burnt his favourite teddy, Lissy Hissy, for the nth time. Adorable as Sirius' pout was, Remus felt he owed it to him to cheer him up. He leant down, and patted Sirius on the shoulder.
'Don't worry, Padfoot. I know where we can find the perfect book.'
'Really?' asked Sirius, a glint of hope twinkling in his eye behind the shadow of anthropomorphic character-induced gloom.
'Really,' Remus assured him. 'But not here. We'll have to nip back home and, er, get something first.'
Sirius raised an eyebrow in question, but Remus pretended not to notice as he climbed out of the little wooden book train. Best to get all the awkward questions over in one go, later on.
~*~
Remus had hoped Sirius might be distracted by the offer of sex or pudding, thereby delaying the inevitable by half-an-hour or so, but he'd underestimated Sirius' tenacity. Really, bloke was like a dog with a bone sometimes.
'Well,' demanded Sirius. 'Where can we get this oh-so-wonderful book for my godson then?'
Remus took a deep breath. 'We have to go,' he said slowly, 'into the future.'
'We...' Sirius' voice trailed off, and his mouth was left flapping open uselessly. 'What?'
'It sort of...hasn't been published yet,' said Remus.
Sirius just stared at him, so Remus decided it was probably best to start at the beginning.
'Well, you remember how I told you that my mum used be an Unspeakable?'
'How could I forget?' Sirius grinned. 'I'm always happy to hear about your mum and her career in umentionables.'
'Yes,' said Remus slowly. 'Well, anyway, she couldn't afford a childminder or anything when I was little, so on the days when my dad was too drunk to find his own hands she liked to send me somewhere safe while she was at work.'
'What's all this got to do with Harry's book?'
'I'm getting there, Padfoot, I'm getting there,' said Remus. 'Anyway, she didn't want anyone to see me out and about on my own, so she used to send me to all these Muggle libraries. Er...in the future.'
Sirius was doing that staring thing again. Honestly, it wasn't that strange. OK, well, maybe it was, but there was no need for Sirius to draw attention to it.
'She worked in the Time Room for a bit,' Remus continued, as much to fill the silence as anything else, 'so it was easy enough for her to steal me a time turner. She didn't want the Ministry to find out that she'd been leaving a junior werewolf unattended, so she thought I'd be less likely to be spotted in a Muggle library - '
' - in the future,' Sirius finished for him, looking as though he felt it was the maddest thing he'd ever heard. He shook his head. 'So, are you going to tell me about this book then?'
Remus grinned. 'I can do better than that,' he said. He turned and walked towards the bedroom (knowing full well that Sirius would follow him) and opened his sock drawer. At the back of the drawer was a golden disc, slightly larger than a galleon, hollowed out, and with an hourglass fastened in the centre.
Sirius' eyes lit up as Remus held the time-turner up in front of him.
'Moony,' he said, voice rich with admiration. 'I don't think I've ever seen one that big before.'
Remus rolled his eyes as Sirius took a step towards him, placing his hands on Remus' hips and leaning his head into Remus' neck. Sirius could be awfully predictable sometimes.
'Padfoot,' he said, batting Sirius' hands away. 'Harry's present, remember?'
'Mmm, 'course,' murmured Sirius. 'Best we get going. Although...' He pulled Remus back towards him, pressing their bodies together. 'When we get back, you're getting a reward.'
'Well, if you insist,' said Remus, reluctantly disentangling himself from Sirius' embrace.
After all, it wouldn't take them long to nip forwards a decade and pick up the book. Sirius would have plenty of time to reward him later.
~*~
Several spins of the Timer Turner, a quick bit of Apparition, a short walk, and a spot of rummaging later, and Remus had found what he was looking for.
'The Rainbow Fish,' he said, an almost reverential tone to his voice as he handed the book to Sirius. 'It was my favourite book when I was little.'
Sirius accepted the book from him, casting his eyes over the rainbow-coloured, sparkling illustrations before looking back up at Remus, one eyebrow quirked up in question.
'What?' asked Remus.
'Nothing.' Sirius shrugged and sat down on the nearest beanbag. 'It's very pretty. Remind me, Moony, how long did it take you to admit that you're gay?'
Remus bristled defensively, but said nothing.
'Oh, and how do you pronounce the author's surname?' asked Sirius impishly.
'Shut up and read,' said Remus.
'So the P's silent, then?'
Remus ignored him, deciding that any bickering would only distract Sirius from the unspeakable cuteness of the Rainbow Fish.
'Well?' he asked when Sirius closed the book. 'Do you think Harry will like it?'
Sirius wrinkled his nose and frowned. 'I'm not sure,' he said. 'Those other fish were mean to the Rainbow Fish - I don't know why he wanted to be friends with them anyway.'
'Well, he was lonely.'
'He had to rip his own scales off!' said Sirius. 'What kind of friend is someone if they'll only talk to you if you pull bits of your own body off first?'
Remus' heart sank. He could not believe Sirius was disparaging his beloved Rainbow Fish. 'It's an allegory, Padfoot,' he said wearily.
Sirius shot him a Do-You-Think-I'm-Stupid Look. Remus retorted with a Well-I-Do-Sometimes-Wonder Glance. Sirius rolled his eyes, and then resumed his earnest expression. 'When we first met at school, I had three boxes of Ice Mice and you didn't have any. You didn't say you wouldn't be friends with me unless I gave you some sweets.'
'No, but you shared them anyway,' said Remus. 'And I like you better for being generous than I would if you were greedy and selfish. Besides, the Rainbow Fish was awfully vain.'
'Well, he had good cause to be.' Sirius sounded a tad defensive on the point. 'Look at how lovely and sparkly he is,' he added, jabbing the cover with his finger.
'He is very lovely and sparkly,' agreed Remus, gazing wistfully at the illustration. He shook his head and pulled himself together. 'Of course, the book has caused some controversy.'
Sirius looked doubtful. 'How controversial can a children's book be?'
'We were just arguing about it.'
'Moony, we once nearly split up over an argument about whether or not you should store eggs in the fridge.'
Remus shuddered at the memory: he'd acquiesced in the end, magnanimously declaring that he loved Sirius more than he feared salmonella, and agreed that the eggs could go in the cupboard. Still, Sirius had been very enthusiastic in his efforts to reward Remus for giving in, and so far he hadn't found out about the Cooling Charms Remus cast on the egg boxes every morning.
'OK, so maybe we're not the best example,' Remus agreed. 'But lots of people have argued about the Rainbow Fish - there's been all sorts of right-wing nutters going on about how the Rainbow Fish promotes communism.'
Sirius' eyebrows were doing the Logic-Do-Not-Forsake-Me Dance. Remus pressed ahead, regardless. 'They said it was like Marxism for pre-schoolers.'
'I've read Marx,' said Sirius. 'There were no fishes in it. Unless the pictures of seaweed are meant to form some rudimentary illustration of the base-superstructure model, which seems unlikely.'
'I think it's more the redistribution of wealth theme...'
'I think it's fucking stupid.'
'It's not me saying it, you know,' said Remus. 'I like the Rainbow Fish.'
Sirius' expression softened. 'You really want Harry to have it?'
Remus took the book from Sirius' hands and tilted it back and forth. 'Look, Padfoot,' he said. 'It's all shimmery, just like a real fish.'
'Yes,' said Sirius, draping his arm over Remus' shoulder. 'I suppose it is.'
~*~
As it turned out, Sirius ended up buying three copies of The Rainbow Fish. The first was wrapped in ribbons before it was presented to Harry on the day of his Christening, and the second was treated with special 'baby puke repelling charms' to stop it going the way of the first.
The third involved dangerously criminal amounts of time-travel by Sirius, and came as part of a box-set, including the sequel (Rainbow Fish to the Rescue, which Sirius approved of far more than the original) and a little toy Rainbow Fish, with glitter on.
Remus thought the gesture was very sweet, even though he was a grown man and not at all interested in children's books, far less toys. He certainly didn't sleep with the little toy fish when Sirius was away overnight on Order business.
That would be ridiculous.
THE END
originally posted to my journal in 2007