The Hogwarts express let out its first puff of white steam and gave a laboured groan as the power started up for the first time in months. The doors opened to a flurry of eager students who arrived at platform nine and three quarters maybe just a little too much in advance.
Among them, dressed in a set of newly fitted and bought black robes, was Sirius Black, standing five inches taller than the last time he stepped onto the train. His lanky frame had broadened out a little and he stood more proudly (as if that was even possible) than before, confident in his new look. Black had always looked good, and he wasn't one to pander to the doubts that told him otherwise. Black looked good, and Black knew he looked good.
His hair had recently been cut back to a particularly flattering mid-neck length. Well, he thought so at least. He would definitely know once he had heard Remus's opinion on it. He was the wise one of out of them. That's all there was to it. That's all that it was. Sirius shook his head, trying to fling out the niggling thoughts that tried to convince him that his view of Remus was anything other than friendship.
Managing – although barely – to cast out those thoughts for the moment, Sirius turned his mind to his surroundings. The sky was clear and warm looking, everyone around him seemed to radiate an aura of brightness, and a pleasant smell was lingering in the air. After being stuck in his house all summer, this was nothing short of a blessing. Sirius was ecstatic to be out of that dreadful bloody house again.
Twelve Grimmauld place was the house from hell; full of leering house elves, his mother's gut-wrenching screams and the sight of that ghastly Black family tree. There were multiple faces burnt off already, and Sirius couldn't wait for the day that his parents finally burnt him off. Maybe then he could go about his life, pranking as he pleased and not having bullshit about the importance of blood purity breathed down his neck. He had desperately hoped that his most recent escapades involving hair removal potion and extra-large Gryffindor banners would have managed to achieve his lifelong goal. Sadly, all it had gotten him was a smack across the face from both of his parents respectively and two long weeks in the barren-walled spare room with a silencing charm on it.
His time in the Azkaban of the Black family home had been almost unbearable, and it damn well would have been if it hadn't been for James Potter. The windows were barred on the outside, close enough together to stop any owls getting through and providing Sirius with any sort of entertainment during his confinement. Instead, for the first five days, he was left in complete isolation with only a half a loaf of bread and a glass of water each day. The life of a real prisoner. Great.
Then of course, during the middle of the night, there was a shrill screech in the middle of Sirius's room, followed by an envelope that dropped straight on his head and woke him up. A tiny owl - no bigger than Wormtail in rat form – perched on the edge of the bed and its grey feathers rustled in the heavy breeze that was filtering into the room through an open window.
The envelope read 'Sirius Black, 12 Grimmauld Place', written in an almost neat scrawl that couldn't belong to anyone but James.
As it turned out, Mrs. Potter had bought the owl on the Potters' first visit to Diagon Alley that summer. James described in great detail the affection that she showed towards the owl in the shop, and how it was dreadfully, unbearably embarrassing for him. Sirius rolled his eyes, shaking his head at how dramatic his fellow marauder could be.
Privy to the knowledge that Sirius was somehow entirely incapable of distancing himself from mischief for more than approximately five seconds, James was used to him being confined in the spare room. He was definitely no stranger to the complaints about the barred window that Sirius described as being heavily charmed into place either. He decided to send the miniscule owl with the desperate hope that it would manage to fit through the gaps of the bars. Maybe this way he'd finally be able to break the silence of his best friend that usually entailed with the summer months.
With infinite thanks to James, Sirius finally managed to send off the small pile of letters that he'd written to his friends in his hours of boredom – which to be frank, were all the hours of the day. Receiving letters back from them all was easily the best part of a shitty fortnight. Remus's letters were particularly good; his first letter was three sides of parchment long, all filled up with tiny, messy writing, and bursting with what seemed like more affection than Sirius had felt in a long time. Rem always liked to talk about a lot and he hadn't found a way to get to Sirius all summer, so there was more than plenty to write about. It sounded like Moony actually missed him, like proper missed him. Not in the way that he missed James or Peter, but something more… Intimate – oh shut up, Sirius you knob. 'Intimate'. Don't kid yourself. What a bloody awful word.
There was no way he wasn't just making it up. Being away from his friends for so long was turning him into a sappy bastard, especially towards Rem, god knows why. His light hazel eyes always appeared so warm in Sirius's mind. His tawny hair soft and – my god, STOP IT SIRIUS. You cannot do this. Moony is your friend, he's a bloody marauder for god's sake. He's not your boyfriend, he never will be and you cannot ever wish that he was. Don't be a wanker.
Sirius's dark brows were knitted close together, overcasting his eyes with their deeply disapproving frown. James found him like this when he stepped onto the train and made his way to the marauder's usual carriage. Although James was twenty minutes earlier to the platform than he usually was because of his mum, the hunched over and frowning figure of Sirius seemed like it had already been sitting there for at least double that time. James was surprised to see that he hadn't turned into stone by now. He stepped into the carriage and lobbed a small bag onto the overhead compartment before sitting down opposite his friend. He gave Padfoot a few minutes to realise that none other than the most precious person in the world, his best friend in the entire world had appeared. When, to James's bafflement, that didn't happen, he took a swipe at the arm that was holding up Sirius's head.
Sirius's head dropped down suddenly, like a puppet cut off its string. With the fright, it then flew back and smacked off the wall behind him. That would leave a nasty bruise and a bugger of a headache, no doubt. James reminded himself to use magic next time. Easier to control than the muggle methods he was used to from being around his mum for so long over summer.
She liked to enforce muggle methods in the house to stop James relying on magic too much. Silly thing, that. It's not like he's ever going to be stuck without it. James often wondered why she was still so fond of the muggle ways she was brought up on. Nothing wrong with it of course, but magic was just so great. Much easier than doing everything by hand. Those poor muggles, jesus.
"Prongs! Bloody hell, you could have killed me!" Sirius barked, his hand moving up to rub the back of his head. "You could have ruined my new hair as well. That would you get you in big trouble, lad." His voice lightened and a smirk grew on his face as relief of seeing his friend flooded through his brain.
"Plus, Remie hasn't seen it yet." He paused, only too conscious of his slip up. "Or Pete." Sirius avoided eye contact with James, although he wasn't quite sure why. It's not like he had a crush on Moony. Why did he keep acting like it? Everyone else will think he does, the way he was carrying on.
"Jesus, Siri. You never shut up about your hair, do you? You talk about it like you've just created the latest life-saving potion. It's not like your boyfriend is here yet, you've got time to fix it." James's eyebrows raised and he winked at Sirius, who gaped at him, completely lost for words. Even an insult. That was new.
"Who? My boyfriend? What in the bloody hell are you talking about? I don't care about people being… Gay, an' all that – y-you know that – but I'm not one of them either." His protest seemed almost desperate, and that was far too much for James to handle. He looked at Sirius, eyebrows still raised and a smile that was barely managing to contain his laughter.
"Oh lay off it, Padfoot. I know about your stupid schoolgirl crush on Rem. Even though you try to believe you know nothing about it. You're about as inconspicuous as a flying car to a muggle. Don't go mental or anything, but I, uh, charmed my owl to bring me all your mail before it was sent off to the right person. I – uhm – wanted to check you weren't in danger, aaaaand I had the feeling you fancied someone before school broke up for summer. You were a world of your own for a while, mate.
You wrote millions to Moony. Million's Siri. Jesus, you absolute sop. I've never seen you write that much for anything, so it wasn't exactly difficult to figure out who you fancied. You're bloody lucky it seems like he hasn't figured out yet, Padfoot." Sirius could do nothing but stare at James, eyes wide and a sheen of nervous perspiration coating his forehead and the back of his neck. It wasn't often that the great smooth and suave Sirius Black didn't have anything to say, but when it happened, it was definitely something to witness. That was the second time it had happened in one sitting, too. Christmas had come early for James Potter.
The silence lingered between them, Sirius opting to resume the hunched over position James had found him in. He puffed out a short, loud breath, reminding James of an angry four year old. He leaned back in his seat and let his smirk grow wider, eyes twinkling with victory against his friend.
Just as James was becoming bored of gloating at this new-found secret (Sirius didn't seem at all bored of huffing yet) he turned his head to the window and caught a glance of a familiar figure walking along the platform. They had some sort of briefcase in one hand and an impressively large bar of Honeyduke's chocolate in the other, slightly less lanky figure swaying from side to side as they walked towards the Hogwart's Express.
"Oh, look, Sirius." Padfoot looked up, adamant that he was not at all interested in what James had to say, but because it was a reflex to look up when he heard his name (even though he rarely looked up when someone said his name, and usually replied with a "hmm?" or a "hng?").
"It's your boyfriend. Bet you'll be happy to see Moony this time – he's certainly improved since you last saw him. Try to keep your happiness in your smile though, eh?" James gave Sirius another wink, this one very exaggerated and slow. Sirius instantly regretted looking up, or getting up that morning at all. Is it possible he could be missing the silence of the spare room, or was it just the relentlessness of James Potter that he hadn't missed? Should have picked different friends, mate. Sirius nodded at his own thoughts, knowing that although they were a bloody nightmare sometimes, he didn't mean it sincerely. He sat up, straightened out his robes and ran a few fingers through his hair, tousling the tips. Despite what James, or anyone else thought, his hair was very difficult to keep in its perfect condition, thank you very much.
A few seconds later a familiar but slightly changed figure ambled around the corner and clumsily into the carriage, almost tripping over James and Sirius in one badly placed step.
"Moony, mate! It's been a damn age, good to see you, clumsy as ever!" James exclaimed, clapping Remus on the back as he shunted his battered briefcase into the overhead compartment along with the other bags.
"Too long. Too long, lads. Couldn't be better getting back to our old marauder ways. Couple months without pranks is a couple months too long. The map, by the way – that needs to be finished this year, got it?" Sirius nodded, not saying a word and trying to act as normal as possible. Prongs was right. Rem was looking considerably better than he had been before the summer. His hair had grown out and it was hanging over his forehead – he hadn't failed to notice that he had changed the parting to something resembling a comb-over too. His face showed more angles with the loss of more childish softness, and there seemed to be a touch more muscle to compliment the fitted shirt and robe he had been ecstatic to get last Christmas.
It was clear to say that Sirius failed miserably, but not surprisingly at acting like nothing was amiss, which didn't go unnoticed by Remus. That bloody werewolf, he never missed a thing.
"Something the matter, Padfoot? The old witch get to you this summer? She seemed a terror when we got back to the station end of last year. Nice hair by the way. See you got it cut – suits you. Not too long, not too short. Good." Remus was very to the point, but his lips were crinkled up at the edges, and his eyebrows wiggled in small motions as he complimented Sirius. It was a compliment.
Sirius's huffy expression changed to one filled with his usual overtones of mischievousness that Remus had seen in him so often. He still looked strained as he tried to focus on something other than how good Remus looked.
"I thought you'd like it, Moony. I mean, how couldn't you? I bet you've fallen in love. God only knows Jamesie here has. Who wouldn't fall in love with the new and improved, one and only Sirius Black – famous Gryffindor scum and betrayer of the notorious Black family name." He flaunted himself around the carriage, swooshing his hair in his friends' faces and managing not to notice how James winked at him tauntingly every chance he got.
"Lay off it will ya'? Can' even get a seat wi' this mess goin' on." The three boys turned to see Wormtail standing in the doorway, short as ever but a few inches taller. He was swinging his jacket from his arm and had a huge grin on his chubby face.
"Marauders back together at last, lads. Just in time too – train leaves in thirty seconds. Bloody hell, Pete, you do cut it close, don't you," James said, baffled at how Wormtail could stand arriving so late. Maybe he'd had a hold up. Something proper. Something not to do with Honeydukes. Not likely.
"What can I say, rats are fast. Nothing to worry about, mate." Peter shuffled into the carriage once everyone else had sat down and plonked down into the empty seat next to James. He lay his jacket over his knees and stretched his legs out a little, taking up whatever legroom Moony had decided he didn't want.
The train let out another burst of steam which continued into a long stream as the loud departing whistle sounded and the Howarts Express clinked and groaned as it began to move off from the platform. Conversation between the marauders flowed easily and merrily through the first half an hour of the journey to Hogwarts, their obnoxious laughter filling any speechless gaps.
When there was finally a break in the conversation, Sirius took his opportunity to bring up something that had been playing on his mind since they had all squashed into the carriage.
"How 'bout a nice prank to start of the first years, then? Something to break them into life at Hogwarts, run by the best bunch of lads to ever set foot in the school." Sirius posed his question as more of a statement, already knowing what the answer would be. If the beaming faces and antsy knee-bouncing was anything of an indication, ideas would be brimming all the way to Hogsmeade station. It was lucky too. It had to be something good. After all, they had an almost finished map now, and it would be a blasphemy not to give it a test run.