Remus was determined to have some fun on his birthday, but the irony gods did not seem in his favor.
It was one of those dreary days where the weather could not make up its mind, and settled for making everyone gloomy. It had been a full moon the night before and Remus still felt like shit, and, to top it all off, he'd been coerced into covering Care of Magical Creatures by a very ill Hagrid, who had quite obviously forgotten that although he was probably the only other teacher that could manage the "forceful handleing" necessary for Abraxan Palominos, horses and wolves of any kind simply did not mix, especially horses that could pull half of Beauxbatons academy through the air in a carriage. He'd had to spend over an hour trying to stop students from being trampled.
Even worse, he'd accidentally caught sight of himself in a suit of armor, so now he not only felt like he'd been drawn and quartered but knew he looked it too, which somehow made the whole business that much worse.
Trudging into his office and narrowly avoiding knocking over an empty cage, he flopped into an armchair before promptly leaping up again.
Settled on the seat was a (now slightly-squashed) package wrapped in brown paper. Picking it up curiously, Remus sat again and pulled open the wrapping. Inside were a book of Oscar Wilde and a bar of chocolate.
Remus was stunned. A birthday present? But no one knew- how could? And such an apt one at that…
Poking out of the top of the book was a small note. Remus pulled it out to read it.
"Remus- This is not a birthday present, but an attempt to get you and your teenage sulkiness out from under my feet. If I see you moping about the castle like a little girl again I will not be responsible for my actions.
-Severus Snape"
Remus blinked, and started to laugh. He laughed and laughed until the mud caked on his boots and the exhaustion in his bones didn't seem to matter anymore. He kicked off his shoes and tossed his cloak over his desk, settling in for what had unexpectedly become a lovely birthday evening.
He would, of course, have to apologize for his terribly juvenile behavior. He grinned, flipping through the collection of short stories and plays until he found The Importance of Being Earnest, and made mental note to investigate Severus' literary preferences at a later date. And to inquire in his most Sirius tone, what actions precisely Severus had in mind.
"Trust Severus to thwart irony," he thought, and began to read.