This short little bit of thoughtless fluff was penned around midnight between the 12th and 13th of June, then lost and forgotten about.

It's a gift for my dear friend merechyn, also known as i.write.fic.not.tragedies, here at FFN, who is an absolutely wonderful, awesome author and an even more wonderful (if it's possible) friend, who truly touched me with her gift of a beautiful oneshot about Remus and Sirius, called of the night.

Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter universe. I mean, really, if I owned Sirius, I certainly wouldn't be in the study right now. BTW, I know that purebloods like the Blacks would rather have had portraits than 'Muggle' photographs, but for the sake of the narrative, let's say they decided to see what all the fuss was about - anyway, the film is developed in potion. :D

Family Portraits.

Remus can vaguely remember his mother chasing after him with a handkerchief to wipe a chocolate smear off his cheek. She smoothes down his threadbare jacket before carrying him back to his father and sitting down. His father makes some comment and his mother laughs just as the camera flashes.

Peter can't look at a rich, tasseled cushion without remembering the large one he sat on a child, and how he bounced up and down, laughing at the odd noises it makes. His mother grips his shoulder, and, flushed, he looks up just as the camera flashes.

Sirius would prefer to forget the stiff, starched black robes his governess forced him into, before walking him into the living room to stand beside his mother, who is seated in a high-backed chair with Regulus in her lap. His father stands behind her, one hand resting on the back of her chair. Sirius obeys his father's command to stand up straight, and tries not to scowl at the camera flashes.

James can clearly remember the one time in his life his hair lay flat; when his mother used copious amounts of Sleakeazy's, along with a few charms. She proudly brings him into the living room where his father takes one look at him, bursts out laughing, and ruffles his hair, messing it up ever so slightly, saying that no son of his is going to have slicked-back Malfoy hair. His mother's sigh sounds somewhere between amusement and exasperation. The photographer grins at him; he grins back as the camera flashes.

Christmas, 1978

Peter bounces up and down on the couch, amused by the sproooing noises it makes. Sirius is trying to attach a sprig of mistletoe to a floppy paper hat he got from a Christmas cracker. Remus is chasing James around the flat, trying to reclaim his chocolate. Lily sighs and wonders what she is doing in a tiny rental flat with four seventeen-year-olds going on seven. She moves out of the way just as Remus tackles James to the floor, holding his chocolate aloft triumphantly.

Sirius jams the mistletoe-hat onto his head and bounds towards Lily. "Lady Lilykins! Wilt thou favour me with a kiss, fair maiden, so that I may thus turn Lord Prongsie's eyes the same colour as yours?".

Lily laughs despite herself, and hesitates for precisely two seconds before James charges at Sirius, knocking him down and yelling something that might have Swahili or Old Norse for all its coherency. The redhead glances around at the half-empty boxes, wondering how trying to make Sirius' 'new' flat habitable resulted in what now appears to be a full-fledged wrestling match.

Meanwhile, the sofa has evidently decided enough is enough. A cushion springs up and Peter is catapulted into the fray. Merlin only knows what Remus is trying to do to Sirius with the snowman-patterned wrapping paper, yelling something about murdering Old English.

Still laughing heartily, Lily scrabbles in the mess of wrapping-paper and bubble-wrap for her present from Sirius. She pulls out the camera, stands back and clicks.

New Year's Eve, 1978

Sirius insists on having the photo framed and put in pride of place on his sooty mantelpiece. "There. Now all I have to do is get copies made for Professor Moony's future students."

Remus glares at him half-heartedly. "I blame you. You and your false eggnog, which had absolutely no egg in it whatsoever."

James pulls the cake-box away from Peter. "Don't blame the eggless nog, Moony; we all know you've always wanted to suffocate Padfoot with wrapping paper. It's your life's ambition."

Lily smacks the back of his head. "You're such a prat, James. Nog or not you'd still act like you're seven."

"Ah, but you love me anyway," He smiles down at her, still unable to believe that in a few months they will be married. He almost kisses her, but Sirius interrupts.

"I propose a New Year's toast!" He holds the glass high. "To the Marauders, including our latest family member. And to our family picture." He gestures to the photo, slopping wine over the rim of the glass. "May we always be as young and frolicsome."

Behind him, in the photo, four almost-men wrestle on the floor. Sirius is wearing a ridiculous paper hat with mistletoe on it, and his laughing face is half-hidden by the wrapping paper held by Remus. One of the werewolf's flailing feet hits Peter, who is sitting on a very flushed James simultaneously trying to push Peter off and grin at the camera.

The war would soon come to force them to grow up, to fight for their lives and forget how to laugh properly. The carefree boys didn't last long; they were soon replaced by hardened men. And, beginning on a fateful Hallowe'en, their number began to dwindle.

But in the photo, they aren't men yet. They are still boys, eternally young and carefree, forever laughing as one family formed not by blood, but by something far deeper. Love.

- Sivaroobini Lupin-Black

Reviews would be loved. :D