Laundry Day

After a long day of work, Remus turns the key in the lock of his front door and, after the usual struggle to get the key back out, walks into his apartment.

"Hullo," says Sirius from the couch, and Remus nearly drops his briefcase.

"Sirius?"

The man on the couch reaches into a bag of crisps from Remus' pantry. "Yes?"

"What are you—how'd you get in here?"

"Alohomora." Sirius stuffs a handful of crisps into his mouth. "Your place isn't guarded very well, mate."

"Yeah, because Muggles live in this building. I can't very well charm—wait, that's not the point. Sirius, why are you in your underwear?"

"Laundry day." Sirius offers Remus the bag of crisps. "Want one?"

Remus is still standing in the doorway. "Since when does laundry day involve you breaking into my flat?"

"Your place has a Muggle whaddaya-call-it—washing machine. Mine doesn't."

Remus lets out a slow sigh. "What's wrong with your wand?"

"It's a lot of effort to wash and dry each piece of clothing one by one, you know. My wand arm gets tired." Sirius moves to the side of the couch and pats the seat next to him.

After a second of hesitation, Remus puts his briefcase on the floor in the foyer and moves to sit down next to Sirius. "It would be less effort if you did your laundry once a week like the rest of us, instead of waiting three months for everything you own to be dirty."

Sirius shrugs. "It comes out of the machine all warm and cozy, Moony," he says as he digs into the bag of crisps again. "It's so tempting to roll around in it . . . but then it smells like dog, and I have to wash it all over again."

Remus raises his eyebrows and pulls the bag away from Sirius. "You'd better not have wasted all my soap."

"Not to worry, I conjured my own." Sirius wipes his hands on his boxers. "I should only have two or three more loads after this one finishes."

"Two or three?" Remus is trying very, very hard not to look at Sirius' boxers. "How long have you been here?"

"Since ten or so?"

"It's taken you seven hours to do laundry?"

"I have a lot of it."

Remus stands up and rolls down the top of the bag of crisps. "Put some clothes on, Sirius."

"What, and dirty them up again so soon? No, thanks."

"Wear my bathrobe, at least."

"What's the matter?" Sirius winks. "Don't you like looking at my body?"

Remus answers almost quickly enough for it to seem natural. "Perhaps you've mistaken me for yourself."

Sirius grins and crosses one leg over the other. "I've got a nice body, that's all I'm saying. Many, many people have told me so."

"I'm sure they have."

Sirius makes a show of flexing his biceps.

The washing machine beeps. "Your clothes are done," Remus says.

"Excellent." Sirius stands up and all but skips to the washing machine. Remus shakes his head a little a the sight. "What's for dinner, Moony?" Sirius asks as he pries open the machine.

"Dinner? The crisps weren't enough?"

"I was hoping you'd make lasagna."

"Why on Earth would I do that?"

"Because it's my favorite."

Remus pulls open his pantry door and stows the half-empty crisp bag on the center shelf. "I don't have any of the ingredients."

The dryer beeps; Sirius opens it and pulls his crumpled clothes out into a basket. "Let's go shopping, then."

"You can't go in your underwear."

"I can go as your dog."

"I don't think they let dogs inside stores."

Sirius drops his armful of wet clothes into the dryer. "Well, then, you go get the ingredients and I'll stay here with my laundry."

"Or you can go home and give me some peace and quiet for a change."

"You love having me around, and you know it." Sirius grins. "Help me fold?"

Remus wrinkles his forehead. "What's wrong with your wand?"

"I'm no good at the tidy spells. You know that."

Rolling his eyes, Remus draws his wand and draws a complicated pattern in the air. Sirius' laundry shudders, and then flies into the air and begins to fold itself.

"Sure could use you around my place," says Sirius. "It's a mess."

Remus says nothing.

"Might be easier on you, too, if you don't have to pay the rent alone."

He tries hard not to swallow. (He fails.)

"'Course, we'd have to live here, because your place is the only one with the Muggle washing machines."

"Stop."

"Stop?"

Remus braces his elbows against the counter. "Don't ask me to move in with you while you're standing in my living room in your bloody underwear."

Sirius smirks. "You're right. I think we'd both be more comfortable if you were in your underwear, too."

Remus lets out a laugh that surprises even himself. "You're daft."

Sirius winks and pulls a purple button-down from his pile of freshly folded clothes. "Think about it, though, eh?" he says as he slips his arms into the sleeves. "Remember all the fun we had as roommates in school?"

"I remember you putting live frogs in my bed."

"Exactly!"

"I remember you pouring snow down my pyjamas at the crack of dawn on winter mornings."

"Just trying to help you out. Didn't want you to sleep your life away."

Remus smiles while Sirius finishes buttoning his shirt and shimmies into a pair of trousers. "I'll consider it. Are you ready to go get that lasagna?"

Sirius shrugs. "These clothes are a bit too warm from the dryer. I might take them off and go as Padfoot after all."

Remus makes himself extremely busy with the handle on his pantry door. "Whatever you want."

With a bark of laughter, Sirius transforms into a dog, and before Remus can do anything about it, Padfoot is leaping into the basket of clean laundry, growling playfully as he rolls through Remus' folding.