"And excellent pass to Davis of Gryffindor by his fellow Chaser Potter! Completely bypassed Slytherin Chaser Regulus Black!"
November had descended on Hogwarts Castle, bringing the forewarnings of cold and snow with it. However, no one at the traditional Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match seemed to mind, except Sirius Black, who was sitting in the Gryffindor side of the Quidditch pitch, wrapping his heaviest set of robes around his body. He also had two different scarves around his mouth and neck, yet he seemed absolutely resolute. On one of his sides sat Remus Lupin, who had full knowledge of what was about to happen; on the other was Peter Pettigrew, who was too busy cheering for their House team and repeating that Slytherin third-year Gilderoy Lockhart's commentary to notice.
"Padfoot," Remus sighed, massaging his temples. "You don't have to do this, you know."
"After the way those Hufflepuff girls and that one Ravenclaw tried to get the two of us to accept their Hogsemeade invites the other day," Sirius huffed. "Yes, Moony, I really do."
"GOAL FOR GRYFFINDOR!" Lockhart cried into the megaphone. "Gryffindor now leads Slytherin seventy to thirty. Looks like Captain Lucius Malfoy needs to step his team's game up if they want to have any hope of winning!"
The red and gold crowd rose to their feet, cheering ecstatically. Although Remus tried to pull him down, Sirius rose with them and no one thought any differently about it. Only he didn't sit down, but stood there in his robes and scarves like some great monolith. Since the three of them – he, Remus, and Peter – were all in the front row, he braced himself, and jumped over the barrier and onto the pitch. No one really noticed until he'd thrown off the scarves and robes. As soon as he had, there were gasps; there was outright shock when he ran out onto the pitch.
"I say," Lockhart gasped. "It appears that Gryffindor fifth-year Sirius Black has run out onto the pitch, and he's completely naked! Oh sweet Merlin, it's freezing out here! How can he deal with it? There's something written on his – oh! Regulus Black is apparently so shocked and appalled by his brother's spectacle that he has surrendered the Quaffle to Potter! And now he has lost control of his broomstick! Oh, no, he has it back again.
"I can't see quite clearly enough to say, but…I believe that Black the elder has something written on his chest, OH! Now I've got it and a full-frontal view to boot. According to the greasepaint, it would appear that he 'hearts Remus Lupin.' Well, I think that I can safely say – ANOTHER GOAL FOR GRYFFINDOR!
"Anyway, I think I can safely say that Mister Lupin of Gryffindor should consider himself a VERY lucky young man!"
To back up Lockhart's assertions, Sirius grinned victoriously and raised his arms as though he'd just caught the Snitch for Gryffindor himself. Apparently, Malfoy caught a sight of Sirius' front, as he quickly fainted and began plummeting to the ground. Luckily, Slughorn shot an Awakening Spell at him before he hit the ground. It was strongly hinted that Sirius should put some clothes on and get off the field, but he didn't pick up on it until Regulus had Malfoy pause the game and came down to yell. Grimacing, Sirius pulled his robes back on and scrambled back into the seats, taking his seat between Peter and Remus.
Peter's blush was so red that it rivaled the late autumn leaves, and occasionally he looked at his own crotch, looking quite dejected. Remus, on the other hand, slid closer to Sirius – a little pink in the face and giggling; he placed his head on Sirius' shoulder.
"You've been working out, haven't you?" he chuckled softly.
"Was it really that obvious?" Sirius asked, with a proud laugh.
"Is your arse supposed to be an early Christmas present or something?"
"Can't blame me for being perfect and having buttocks to match."
"Of course not."