"I am enlisting your aid, Monsieur Moony," James began in portentous tone, "as mischief-maker to mischief-maker, and lonely soul to lonely soul."

Remus put down his quill without a word. He turned to James. He gazed long and hard into earnest brown, shaking his wrists out and flexing his fingers. He screwed the lid back onto his jar of ink, never bothering to look down.

He shook his head.

"Moony," said James, breaking out of all posture and formalities, "don't do this to me, mate. We're Marauders, we help each other out. Do not break the code."

Remus glanced up from his satchel, into which he had begun stuffing a very considerable length of parchment (and several thousand words of absolute rubbish about the magical properties of mushrooms). Somehow, against all reason and precedent, it appeared that James Potter was serious. He was practically on his knees. It was, Remus noted, a rather powerful feeling to have the Head Boy of Hogwarts at his feet after all those years of ineffectual Prefecting.

"The code, the code!"

"All right, the code," Remus conceded with a twist of a smile. He never could resist his friends – and besides, Messrs. Padfoot and Prongs were notorious for responding to betrayal with murder and mayhem. "But nothing illegal." He coughed. "This time."

"Oh no, certainly not," said James in conspiratorial voice, attitude changing completely at first sign of cooperation. "Would I ever lead you astray? Don't answer that."

There was a hint of imminent doom hanging about the air. Remus wished someone would open a window.

"What I need," James said, "is advice. Good advice."

"Study for your NEWTs," said Remus, and made to grab at his Charms textbook. James caught his hand midway and clamped it to the library desk with some force.

"No jokes, Moony, please. We're running out of time," he said quietly, and his sombre tone finally secured Remus' attention.

"What do you need?"

"Lily. You have to tell me how I can get her to go out with me."

Remus nodded slowly. "First off," he said in a low voice, glancing around the library, "you should probably let go of my hand."

Flushing lightly, James laughed and snatched his hand from the desk. "Go to hell," he said, nursing his arm against his chest with a creditable appearance of virtuous outrage.

"Secondly," Remus continued, failing to suppress a grin, "you should consult someone with a love life, Prongs, because I really do think you're barking up the wrong tree, here."

James snorted, dropping his hands back to the desk. His face split into something of an unwarranted smirk as he gave Remus a mischievous once-over. "I'm not so sure about that, Moony, my love," he said. "Indeed, I truly believe your advice is crucial to all involved."

"It's your funeral," said Remus, absolutely giving up in the face of impenetrable Prongs insanity. "As per the code, I shall give you the very finest fruits of my non-existent romantic experience."

"Excellent," said James, propping his feet atop Remus' charms book and rummaging about in his bag – which appeared, against all odds, to be filled with school books. With a look of triumph, he produced a violently green quill, some spare parchment, and, rather strangely, a small square mirror. Remus would never cease to be amazed at the extent of his friend's vanity.

"So let's do some role-playing," James started briskly, dismissing Remus' squeak of protest with a flap of his hand. "I," he said, gazing very intently into the mirror, "shall be the dashing young man out to break your maiden heart."

"You know," said Remus conversationally, "I'm not entirely sure this is part of the code."

"Sit down like a good girl," said James, flinging the mirror onto the top of his bag, "and receive my advances in character."

Remus offered no further protest. There was really no point – and besides, James only had approximately three minutes before he was kicked out of the library for the unconscionable usage of literature as footstool.

"Would you go out with me," James said with a roguish smile, "if I gave you flowers?"

"Lilies have been a tad overdone," said Remus apologetically. "From the perspective of – er – my character, they'd probably earn you a decent cursing."

"Not flowers, then," said James, far from disheartened. "What if I offered you sweets?"

"Too saccharine," Remus said with a shrug. "And besides, my character's watching her weight."

"Chocolate wouldn't work, then?"

"Wouldn't quite cut it, sorry," said Remus, and felt unaccountably guilty at the sight of James' face. "But you're getting closer," he said reassuringly, "I'm sure she wouldn't hex you – or, at least, she probably wouldn't aim to kill."

"Dog biscuits," said James. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Remus laughed. "She really would kill you for that."

Something like amusement flashed across James' face before he straightened with resolve. "Books," he said slowly. "I could give her a book. And you wouldn't say no to that, would you, Moony?" he added, almost as an afterthought.

Remus thought for a moment. "You know, that's not such a bad idea. If you gave her the right book, one that really meant something, she might actually give you a chance."

James beamed. "Brilliant. A book. Trust you, Moony." He leapt to his feet a split second before Madam Pince swept out of a nearby aisle with a suspicious glare.

"Wait a moment," said Remus, staring at the table. "That's not a Quick-Quotes Quill, is it?"

"Of course not," James said with an affronted expression, grabbing the parchment and stuffing it in his bag – but the quill continued twirling about on the cover of some abandoned book.

"Wilful accusations?" Remus read wryly. "Any half-truths that pass his lips are necessary, driven by greater purpose–"

"Oh, shut it," said James, snatching the acid green quill mid-sentence. "I had to record your advice for posterity, all in the name of love. I haven't offended your womanly virtues, have I?"

"Here's some advice," said Remus, fixing James with a dangerous look. "Keep this counselling session to yourself, or I'll break more than your code."

"Yes, ma'am," said James with a quick salute, and bolted grinning from the library.

Remus squeezed in two hours of study before curiosity got the best of him. Once James had fixed his mind on a project, that project was good as done, solid as antlers. There was no doubt in Remus' mind that James would proposition Lily before dinner – but unlike all other nights, tonight James would be acting on borrowed advice.

Scrabbling together his things, Remus smiled. He hardly believed that Lily would be swayed by a book, but it was a nice thought – and when the plan fell through, he hoped that James would remember that much.

He had barely clambered through the portrait hole when he was tugged off to the side and pushed down behind an armchair.

"Oof," he said in greeting to one shifty-looking Sirius Black.

"Right back at you," said Sirius, crawling back so that Remus had room to cross his legs.

"Not that it's very important," said Remus, "but is there something preventing us from sitting on the armchairs?"

"Shush," answered Sirius, pressing a finger to Remus' lips as he curled himself around the side of the chair and peered out into the common room. "Prongs would have our necks if he knew we were down here."

"What–" Remus began, but a cursory sniff was all it took to explain the curiously empty common room. "A dung bomb, Padfoot? Really?"

"Wormtail did it. We had to clear everyone out quickly," said Sirius in an entirely unapologetic tone. At the sudden sound of footsteps clattering down a staircase, he flung his arm out across Remus' chest, and overbalanced.

Remus looked down with difficulty. His lap appeared to be filled with sprawling Sirius. Sirius grinned up him and winked. "Oh," Remus said, and concentrated hard on the events occurring on the other side of the armchair.

When it came, Lily's voice rang as clear as a highly disapproving bell: "Potter."

It wasn't a question.

"You called?"

And here was James, having evidently braved the stench of dung bombs for this chance to woo the Head Girl.

"Dung bombs. Again."

"I agree," said James smoothly, "not very inspired, was it?"

"Hardly," Lily replied, and her tone was not encouraging. Remus swallowed nervously. Despite possessing all the scruples of a normal person (unlike at least two of his fellow Marauders), Remus truly wanted James to get somewhere this time. He'd been chasing Lily for years, for much too long, really.

"I, er – oh, look. I just wanted to give you something," said James, and it sounded almost like he'd abandoned his usual attempts at suavity. Remus poked Sirius in the head. This was new. This was progress.

There was a faint rustling, the sounds of what was presumably a book being wrestled from a bag full of NEWTs materials. And then there was a gasp.

Remus tensed in anticipation.

"Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Wizards," Lily read.

There was a pregnant pause. Remus very much wished that his hands were available to clasp over his eyes in horror, but they had been summarily snatched by Sirius.

"I saw the title and knew you'd love it," said James, sounding remarkably unruffled. "I even read a few pages, just to make sure it'd lead you in the right direction. It's not all about the wandwork, either," he said, and Remus could hear him waggling his eyebrows.

Lily snorted. She actually snorted. Remus' eyes widened to the size of Galleons.

"You are–" she began, and then stopped. Her smile was obvious in her voice. She tried again: "What are you, twelve years old?"

"I was when I fell in love with you," said James, and Remus, bright red in the face, began to wish that the armchair was an adamantine wall. He really didn't want to eavesdrop into this conversation. This was much worse than inappropriate books and hideously misconstrued advice; this was private.

"Oh," said Lily in a much quieter voice, all traces of a smile gone.

"Walk around the lake with me?"

"Oh, all right, then," said Lily, and Remus jumped violently as James whooped in triumph. Sirius was like a dead weight in his lap. Finally, finally the portrait swung open and closed, and Remus and Sirius were once again alone in the room.

Almost immediately, Sirius wrenched himself away from Remus and stood up. "Merlin," he said faintly, a greyish tint to his face, "he actually did it. It actually worked."

"Yeah," said Remus, getting shakily to his feet and willing the pins and needles away. "Yeah. That's – quite frankly, that's unbelievable."

"Unbelievable," Sirius echoed, and walked around the armchair to where a book lay abandoned on a bench. "She didn't even want the book."

Remus, whose brain was busy absorbing the news, suddenly burst out laughing. "I can't believe that worked. I should write a column for Witch Weekly. It's my advice that got him a date, you know."

"I know," said Sirius, and his voice was too low and his profile too rigid. Remus watched with a touch of concern as Sirius picked up Lily's book and leafed idly through the pages.

"Learning anything useful?" he said lightly, a smile tugging at his mouth. "James said it wasn't all wandwork, but I'm sure–"

"Prongs and I had a deal going," Sirius interrupted, and his tone indicated that this was no ordinary deal. In fact, his tone said something more along the lines of death, doom and torture, than flights of fancy.

"Oh?" said Remus – rather uninspired, like James' dung bombs.

"Yeah," Sirius said, appearing to be entirely engrossed in a section that might have been called, He's Just Not That Into You. "He made me promise to, er, take some advice."

Remus edged out from behind the armchair. "I'm not sure James is the best person to go to for advice, Padfoot. Lily may plead temporary insanity, but I'm not sure his tactics would work on most – sane – people."

"We said," Sirius continued, seeming to ignore Remus, "that if Prongs got the right information, we'd both use it."

"What information?" said Remus, beginning to feel a bit scared. This was not the normal imperious, playful Padfoot – no, Sirius was acting very strangely indeed. He was staring at the gaudy cover of that book like he wasn't game enough to look away. And then he wrenched his eyes towards Remus.

"Prongs said you wouldn't say no to a book," he said quietly, grey eyes pleading and embarrassed and clearly scared of being laughed at. He exhaled shakily, and flipped the book towards Remus so that the cover was laid flat out before him. "It's not that you need it, really," he said in a falsely bright tone.

Remus stared down at the cover and read the title: Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Wizards. He blinked, read it again, and then looked up at Sirius. He felt rather like he was sticking a foot over the edge of a skyscraper, entirely unprotected by magic, as unstable as the maddest Muggle.

He cast himself to the wind.

"I never say no to a good book," he said very seriously. He tugged the book unceremoniously from Sirius' hands, and felt a small smile curl its way onto his mouth. "Don't tell Lily, though; she'll be furious."

Sirius was absolutely beaming, suddenly right back to his usual self, and he snatched the book straight back. "Give it here, I've been trying to get a copy for ages," he said, turning a shoulder to Remus as if to start reading right then and there – but Remus launched himself forward and started grappling for the book.

"You – absolute – tosser," he panted, propped up on his toes as a cackling Sirius held it just out of reach. "You – and James! You made me pretend to be a girl! In a public place!"

Sirius, still chortling, flung the book across the common room, and Remus flinched as he imagined Madam Pince's reaction, but then his cringe was smoothed away by unsteady fingers as Sirius turned back and took Remus' face in his hands.

"I've liked you for ages," he said softly, "not quite as long as Prongs has obsessed over poor Lily, but long enough."

"And it took you this long to say something?" Remus said faintly, his heart taking up as a one-man band. "After all we've been through, Padfoot?"

When Sirius smiled, there was a touch of shame in those grey eyes. "There was never a good time, Moony. And you know me and Prongs produce our finest schemes together."

"Oh Merlin," Remus said, struck by a sudden thought, "I'm Lily, aren't I? I'm just a crazy as she is, all swept up in the insanity of that book–"

And his words dried up as Sirius swooped in and pressed his lips to Remus' mouth with the instinctive audacity that was all Padfoot. Next lucid moment, Remus found his hands clutching fiercely onto shirt sleeves, his breathing ragged, and his mouth being released by Sirius, who looked as if he'd woken up to find that the house elves had accidentally delivered all the students' Christmas presents to the foot of his bed.

"Wow," said Sirius, eyes fixed hungrily on Remus' face.

Releasing a handful of shirt, Remus reached up and flicked Sirius on the nose. "Stop that. I'll go all red."

"Too late."

Remus groaned, and buried his head in shirt, deriving some small piece of satisfaction from the startled jolt of Sirius' chest. "I would have accepted chocolate, you know. But I can only assume you've read the Quick-Quotes Quill's transcript."

"Let's just say I was privy to certain events," said Sirius with a smirk, "and I for one thought you made a very lovely lady."

"If Lily doesn't get there first," Remus began, an edge to his voice that was purely werewolf, "I'm going to kill Prongs. I'm going to kill him and curse him to ponce about the school in a skirt for the rest of his very short life."

"Mischief managed," smirked Sirius, and pulled Remus up for another kiss.

A/N: Writing R/S fic is like therapy. I love the Marauders. Hope you enjoyed, and please let me know what you thought. It might inspire some more one-shots. :)

Cheers,

Froody xx