"There's something about September, isn't there? I just want to listen to Vampire Weekend and wear horrible jumpers," Sirius said brightly to the woman behind the till in Smiths. She looked at him for a second too long, scanned his whiteboard pens and shoved them into a bag.
"The bag's an extra penny," she said, and waited for him to extract the necessary cash from his pocket. He found a crumpled tenner, which she took as it would stain her fingers.
"Despite my youthful good looks," he went on, and she sent him a look that could shatter glass at twenty paces. Unpeturbed, he pressed on. "I am a teacher – so are there any discounts you could apply for a beleaguered civil servant? I provide all my own printer paper and I never get paid back, actually, which wouldn't bother me except that Snape manages somehow to claim all his back, even if all he does is use it to try to prove Fermat's Last Theorem, which is actually – "
"You owe me £1.25," she said, and waited in silence for him to dig around in his other pocket. With a triumphant air, he found the money, and she gave him a pale imitation of a smile and a load of discount vouchers. "Have a nice day…" she managed, before conclusively ignoring him.
He gathered his carrier bags, and headed home. The leaves were falling thick and fast now, and the gutters were overflowing, and as he got home it started to rain.
"James!" he yelled up the stairs. James poked his head over the railings on the landing, hair dripping.
"Just got out the shower," he said. "It's playing up again, keeps going from ball-boilingly hot to so cold that I now worry if I can have children - but it's an adventure, isn't it? That's what the landlord said when I phoned him to complain, anyway. You been off on your annual pilgrimage?" He eyed the bags with trepidation.
"Yup," said Sirius. "I have: whiteboard pens of many colours, printer paper, spare pens, spare pencils, a few spare clear pencil cases for exams, a spare scientific calculator, and a shedload of protractors," and he rummaged in the bag. "Oh, and some rulers, in case the little horrors forget theirs or bend them to see how shatterproof they are, you know. They should make the rulers bloody snap-proof, that's what I think, then what will the kids do? Probably something horrific involving bodily fluids, actually – "
"How much of your food budget for this week has gone on stationery?" James said, coming down the stairs. His glasses were still steamed up from the shower, and he was wearing his oldest pair of trackies and a t-shirt.
"Well, if you think about it, surely money is a construct. Ninety-nine percent of all our money isn't real, tangible money – it's just numbers on a screen," Sirius said, edging the receipt out of sight.
"How much?" James asked again, and Sirius was reminded that he could be fearsome in the classroom, should any pupil forget who fought whom at the Battle of Bosworth. He shrugged.
"Just over eleven quid," he said. "But, you know how I get in September! Even before I'd started teacher training I bought all that stuff in September! It's the marketing. I am a poor, poor victim of the might of the people who make those pens where you can click them to get different colours," and he took a sip of the tea James had passed to him. "I have a problem, James," and James snorted.
"Well, I suppose – if it's a problem – all I can do is support you. Although I will be having those whiteboard pens off you. Year nine are doing World War One this term and the simple red, green, blue and black simple won't be a large enough range of colours. And also, ooh, I could have for example purple as the Austria-Hungarian Empire, and then red for Austria and blue for Hungary when we learn about stuff like the treaty of Trianon and the post-war squabbles – " He broke off, breathing heavily.
"And you wonder why you don't have a girlfriend, you nerd," Sirius said, and he leaned over to ruffle his hair.
Once Sirius had his glittery gel pens, the first day of term couldn't come soon enough. He and James went up to the school and spent a glorious few hours decorating their classrooms. James's classroom was surprisingly well organised, with huge maps of the world and the various alignments of the countries, and pictures of the battles and bloodshed and Blitzes surrounding the maps. Sirius's had started off neat – beautiful star-charts, nebulae, diagrams of nuclear reactors, a circuit up on the wall that, when lit, somehow endeavoured to explore Newton's Second Law of Motion – but it had become less neat as soon as Peter showed up and threw him a packet of glow-in-the-dark stars, which were now everywhere.
Peter's classroom was bright and cheery, much like Peter, although also like Peter it showed a slightly worrying tendency to wobble under pressure: his enormous model of the Earth, right down to its core, was crumbling with the weight of the papier-maché. James went with him to find some sort of solution, and James suggested the chemistry lab for that – "it's all solutions in there. Or like, solvents. I forget which" – and off they went. Lily Evans – red-headed, brilliant scientist, always setting off the fire alarms – was decorating her room. She had stolen what looked like largeamounts of coloured paper from Peter to make her litmus indicator, and had put a vast periodic table on the wall.
"Hello," she said.
"Hi," said Peter. James just squeaked. "Erm, we came here because I was wondering if you had something I could use to hold up my model of the Earth. It's collapsing in on itself."
"Well," she said, running her hands through her beautiful hair, "we wouldn't want that, would we?" she asked James, turning her green eyes on him like a cat that has spotted a particularly ineloquent yet tempting mouse.
"No," James managed. "There are definitely some people who should collapse in on themselves, they're so dense – Snape, for one – "
She blinked, very slowly. "Snape is my friend," she said, coolly. "And he's not an arrogant berk, unlike some. And he doesn't go on and onabout his school football career and then fail to lead the team to any sort of victory, and nor does he think he can charm the birds from the trees – "
"I'm not – the football thing wasn't my fault, it was raining and I couldn't see the pitch so to be honest it's a miracle the team even got to the right place, and then that scrawny one twisted an ankle and our only goal-scorer fell over him, and really – "
"I'd like you to go now," said Lily. "Maybe if you can, oh, coach the football team so that they actually win something, and do a decent school play that will get some talent scouts in for the drama kids, and get the best results your subject has ever seen in this school – maybe I will listen to your pithy excuses," and James fled.
"Right, mate," said Peter. "So, you got shot down in flames, ha ha Battle of Britain references – and I failed to get help with my bloody model, and – shit!" he ended, as he came round the corner and collided with a solid object on two legs, sending them both skittering to the floor like skittles. "I'm so sorry," he said, and sat up, massaging his shoulder.
"Not to worry," said the solid lump, which turned out to be a man their age, holding a large box of books. "Shakespeare has claimed many victims," and he pulled Peter up to standing. "I'm Remus – the new English teacher. I'm trying to find my classroom, but it seems to have been taken over by maths – "
"Ah," said James. "Yes, Snape, the meglomaniacal maths teacher, was supposed to be next to Physics this year. But he refused to go anywhere near Sirius and has stolen your classroom, which means you are now next to me! I'm James, I teach History and occasionally Classics if we get an interested kid," and he shook Remus's hand.
"I'm Peter, I teach Geography. I'm on the other side of James, so you'll be in between James and Sirius. The classroom layout doesn't make much sense any more, since Snape decided to get back at Sirius for the pub quiz incident – don't ask," he said, and Remus nodded sagely. "Do you like pub quizzes?" Peter asked.
"I love them," said Remus. Sirius emerged from his classroom, and stalked over to them.
"Bloody stars have stopped glowing in the dark – I hope you've not provided me with shitty children's amusement items, Peter. Did you steal them again? Really, not your best trait, you'll never get that barmaid to shag you if you keep stealing from her neighbouring shops – oh, hello," he said, catching sight of Remus. "You're new."
"I'm Remus. English teacher, which explains the hideously heavy books – "
"Do you want – do you want me to take them?" said Sirius, frightening himself. "I mean, that box is about to split – " and with that, twenty copies of Hamlet poured forth from the now-gaping box. James grabbed Peter and they retreated to Humanities, but Sirius got to his knees and started gathering up the books.
"It's a load of wanky bollocks, isn't it? Shakespeare?" he said, and then remembered that this man, with his slightly wild hair and his loose tie, had at least one degree in English. "I mean, it's – not my cup of tea," and he stood up, arms full of Hamlet. "But Hamlet and Horatio were definitely shagging," and Remus laughed at that.
"Speaking of cups of tea," he said, as they put the books on his desk, "would you like one? Only I've rather repurposed the area outside the fire exit – " and he opened the fire exit door and went round the corner to find an old picnic bench under an umbrella, and an ashtray, "and made it into my bolthole. There were all these gaps in the walls and so I can keep my books in there, and my cigarettes, and come out here for a quick break when the children can't see me," and he smiled.
"I'm dying for a cigarette, actually," said Sirius. "Would you – could I pinch one? I'll return the favour, first day of term! This whole setup is rather marvellous, although I dread to think what health and safety would think – but then, actually, we're smoking on concrete, blah blah. The children can't see us do it, and that's the main thing," and he lit his cigarette and took a drag, leaning back slightly to look at how the clouds moved against the blue sky.
"You teach Physics, right?" asked Remus. "I heard we're next door to each other this year, some sort of shenanigans with the maths teacher – "
"Oh yeah, he's a wanker," said Sirius. "He's in love with Lily – Evans, the chemistry teacher? She reminds me of a Viking shieldmaiden, that fierce and that lovely. But Snape is a nasty sort, the kind who'll pick the weakest kid in the class to work out hideous algebra on the whiteboard, and then sneer at them until they cry a little, and then sneer at them more for crying. Complaining doesn't seem to do anything – Dumbledore's a great headteacher, but he's got a blind spot where Snape's concerned," and he took another drag.
"And James – James is in love with Lily?" Remus said, slowly. "I mean, she made me a cup of tea – we both got here early – and she was saying he's a complete idiot around his friends but when it's just the two of them in the staff room or wherever he's such a different person. But – "
"You're very sharp when it comes to people," Sirius said, wondering if Remus had realised he was gay yet. "Yeah, he's liked her since we started here, three years ago. He made the fatal error of bragging loudly about how good he was at pub quizzes, and since then she's beat us every time. And then whenever we give assemblies we have to get the words to the chorus of her choice of bad song into the assembly, as a forfeit."
"She sounds slightly terrifying," Remus said, blowing a beautiful smoke-ring that drifted across the field before disappearing somewhere above the hockey pitch. "Anything else I should know about the teachers? Or, for that matter, the pupils?"
Sirius grinned. "Well, there's Peter, who is easily led astray. Lily once persuaded him he would look good in eyeliner, and then it rained. I mean, he did look good in the initial eyeliner, but after the rain – "
"So, don't go telling Peter to jump in any fires, because he just might do it?" Remus asked, flicking æ onto the concrete with a practised air. "And don't be in love with Lily, in case James has my guts for garters. And don't make friends with Snape, and don't be on your team in pub quizzes – "
"Actually," Sirius said, hit by a sudden flash of inspiration. "Actually it's, erm, school rules that the newcomer must join the team with the most losses that term so far. And it being the start of term, we must look back to last term, in which the only question we got right was about cooking, and that's only because Peter is legendary amongst the staff for his Victoria Sponge. So, yeah, you're on our team," and Remus grinned.
"I'd better get revising then," and he sent his cigarette butt spinning to the ground.
The first day of term was bright and crisp, and the playground was crammed with children terrified about starting secondary school, trailing their older siblings; children cocky and confident about their GCSEs, teenagers having secret smokes behind the biology building, the occasional parent, and the teachers, trying to look as if they had already memorised their classes for that year.
The bell rang for first lesson, and the milling became a scream as the younger years sprinted for their form rooms, enormous backpacks bumping along with them; the pavement soon emptied, apart from the odd louche sixth-former still smoking as they wandered into A2 French, holding hands with their boyfriend or girlfriend.
Sirius looked around at his class. His form were Year Ten this year, about to do their GCSEs and convinced that at fourteen they knew everything there was to know about life.
"Sir," said Rebecca, who had been a menace last year. "Sir, are you still single?"
Sirius sighed. Being young and handsome – as Dumbledore once described him – endeared him to some of the girls, but many more of them had developed crushes on him to the point that he once found what looked like some sort of voodoo doll hidden in the spare paper drawer, with his hair and his stubble, and pins in its heart. "Rebecca, that's none of your business," he said, and turned to the register. "Right you lot, you know the drill. If you're not here don't answer, and don't answer for anyone else," and he read off the list. He had lost a few this year, gone to private schools, but most of them were still there.
"Right, this year is when some of you will do your GCSEs, and some of you will be doing them next year. Actually, some of you have already done yours, but anyway – who in here is doing GCSE Physics?" Around half the room put their hands up.
"Well, congratulations, you'll be seeing a lot more of me – "
"I'd love," said Rebecca, "to see a lot more of you," and so he gave her a warning, her second of the day already.
"One more warning," he said, "and you'll be up before Professor McGonnogall, and she is especially terrifying this morning because one of the Year Sevens seems to be completely unregistered – "
"Sir," said Miles from the back of the room. "A star just fell on me," and he pointed at his desk, which would indeed now glow in the dark.
"Well, make a wish or something, Miles," said Sirius. The bell rang. "Go on you lot, off to wherever it is you're meant to be, any problems come and find me, no smoking, no lewd behaviour – "
The first few weeks passed without incident, and it was the first week of October when Remus knocked on Sirius's door. "Hi," he said. "I was wondering when this pub quiz is going to happen? My housemate has got herself a new girlfriend, which is lovely – she cooks great vegetarian food – but they are, erm, very loud, and to be honest I'd rather do my marking in the pub with a pint than in my bedroom with my ear plugs," and Sirius laughed and beckoned him in.
"It's lunchtime," he said. "Shouldn't you be eating lunch?"
"Shouldn't you?" asked Remus. "Alas, I am eating my sandwiches and marking essays on A Death in Venice, and none of the little shits seem to have any idea of the meaning of the word allegory and seem to think they can ignore that part of the question," and he shrugged. "And, erm, I said that the Tolkien Society could use my classroom as a base for their wizardry and I don't want to leave them on their own."
Sirius blinked at him. "What?" Remus said. "I like Lord of the Rings," and he rolled his sleeve up to show Sirius a tattoo, wrapping round his forearm. "It's from Beren and Luthien, but I shan't tell you what it means just yet," and he rolled his sleeve back down. Sirius kept blinking at him.
"I need a smoke," he said, and he had already found their bolt-hole and lit the cigarette by the time Remus had caught up with him. "Sorry," he said, as Remus approached. "I just – I like Lord of the Rings, as well, erm, and the tattoo – "
"I'm glad you like it," said Remus. "I have quite a few tattoos, some more meaningful than others, but I keep them covered at school. Something about them being alternative. When I was younger, I had my tongue pierced, but I took it out when I started teacher training," and he shrugged, and lit his own cigarette.
"The school would frown on them, if they knew," said Sirius. "Mind you, I went to a Catholic boarding school when I was seven, and that was strict. If you parted your hair on the wrong side you'd be beaten. I was beaten quite a lot, but they finally threw me out when I was fifteen – they'd caught me, erm, in the showers. It was after we had had rugger in the rain, and he had tackled me, and I had, you know, noticed. And well, they threw me out. I barely had time to get my trousers back on before I was being marched to the headmaster's office. He was the maths master's son, so he was alright, but I had to go – even though my father was on the board of governors. I had been caught too many times – " He tailed off, and took a long drag. "I never went to mass again. Persuaded my father that my, ah, proclivities were simply the result of being beaten if we went near a girl, and he seemed to want to believe me – that time at least."
Remus looked out across the fields. The trees on the fringes of the hockey pitch were just beginning to show their bones, and the clouds were drifting lazily across the sky. "It'll be a harvest moon tonight," he said, and Sirius smiled, and knew he had been listened to and understood, and told Remus about the moons of Jupiter.
The bell rang. Sirius thought about Remus's tattoos all afternoon.
The pub that they always went to was busy that night, crammed with teachers and the odd pupil who had yet to realise they had gone to the wrong place; Sirius told them how to get to the Wetherspoons, and they usually blushed, muttered something, finished their pint and fled. He sat down next to James, with his bike helmet under his arm. "My round?" he said, and Peter nodded.
"Yeah, but be quick – we've got about ten minutes. Remember Remus is coming as well, and you have to save him a seat! And get him a drink, since you love him and all – " he muttered. Sirius pointedly ignored that last bit, and went to get the drinks in.
"Alright Rosmerta," he said, nodding to the barmaid. "You get more and more beautiful every time I see you – "
"It's a new bra, not that that's your area of expertise. But thanks. How's teaching? I sometimes wish I'd stuck at it, and then I remember that I hate children and have little patience with anyone. Actually, what're you having to drink?"
"Pint of bitter, pint of cider, glass of your plonkiest merlot, and – Remus!" he said, turning slightly.
"Remus isn't a drink," Remus said, eyes glinting. "Amaretto and Coke, please," he said to Rosmerta.
"I'll get that one," said Sirius, swiftly, shoving a tenner across the bar. "Cheers love," he added, and nodded at Remus. "Grab those pints," and they made their way over to their table.
"I'll get the next round in," said Remus, as they sat down. "Do we have the answer sheet and the pencil? Is it sharp?" He elbowed Sirius. "Stop laughing – this is serious," and Sirius laughed more.
"Oi, Black," said James. "I thought we agreed you can't laugh at any puns anyone makes about your stupid name. I mean, who the fuck calls their kid that? Like, I've met your parents, right, and they're relics. I'm surprised they're not yet fossilised. And I bet it was no surprise that you ended up doing a degree in astrophysics with a poncey name like that – "
"Ladies, gentlemen, teachers of various genders!" called Dumbledore, standing on the bar. He was wearing a hideous purple velvet suit, with a greenish shirt. "We are gathered here today, in the Three Broomsticks, this haven, we happy few, we band of brothers – "
"Christ, he's completely pissed," said Remus, sharpening the pencil very quietly.
"Welcome to the pub quiz!" managed Dumbledore.
"Every year," James confided to Sirius, "he bigs it up more and more, until the whole school is excited. And every year the first question is the same – "
"Question one!" called Dumbledore. "Who wrote Le Morte Darthur?"
There was a slightly shocked silence. Sirius saw Lily frowning, and whispering something in Snape's ear. Remus wrote something down, smiling slightly smugly. It was a good look on him.
"What the fuck is going on?!" hissed Peter. "The first question is always: what is the name of the character played by Julia Roberts in My Best Friend's Wedding?"
"Maybe this year will be different," said Sirius. "Maybe this is the year we all, like, learn to read books. Maybe he's hinting at something? To do with the standard of our teaching? It's not my fault that year eight girl started crying about the eventual fate of the universe. It is very scary," and he drank his wine and wished the smoking ban had never happened.
"Or maybe," said Remus, "We should all wait and see," and he flashed a quick smile at Sirius.
Questions two to nine – touching on subjects as diverse as Phoebe and Mike's brother's triplets' names in Friends, Anglo-Irish lords of the thirteenth century, chemical compounds, distant stars, the evolution of the English language, and showjumping – passed without too many howls of outrage from the amassed teachers, but question ten was diversive.
"The scores – this is incredible! – the Marauders have nine points. And the Funsponges also have nine. I sense someone fiddling with the names of the teams, actually, as you both started off as Team One and Team Two, respectively." Dumbledore took a gulp of wine. "Question ten, and we're neck and neck! In which country was JRR Tolkein born? That's not "brought up", Mr. Black, because you will inevitable start yelling about Birmingham. We don't care about it, and just because you went to university there – oh, do you all have the answer?" He took another gulp of wine.
Remus was sat frozen, pencil snapped in two. "I know this, it's South Africa. It's South Africa," he said, and Sirius put a supportive hand on his shoulder. They handed their papers to Dumbledore, who half-punched the air, half wobbled.
"You're both right! You're both right – South Africa, yes, yes. So, the only thing to do now is a tiebreaker, as I imagine you won't want to share the trophy, or indeed the forfeit," and he blinked a few times, as if plucking the question from his mind; perhaps he was. "We'll go for another Tolkien one, actually. Which Old English word, depicted as a word of the language of Rohan, means "horse" in both languages?"
There was a sudden pause, and then Remus seized the shard of pencil, scrawled something, and in his haste to get to the front tripped and fell into Sirius's lap. Sirius felt his stomach swoop, and no sooner had he registered this emotion as lust Remus had gone again, and Dumbledore smiled, and they had won the pub quiz and it was because of brilliant, beautiful Remus Lupin with his tattoos and his clever fingers, lithe and nimble as he rolled his cigarettes –
"Sirius," James said, clicking his fingers in front of Sirius's face. "You're staring," and Sirius came to and ducked his head slightly, blushing. "We only bloody won, though," and he turned and yelled across the pub. "Hey Evans, how does it feel losing to a team which includes someone with the middle name Orion?"
"It's alright though," said Remus. "Sirius is a class traitor, so he might as well be called Ollie or something. Stanley Oliver Black. I don't think he, he who voted Lib Dem in 2010,should be called Sirius," and he plonked a tray of drinks down. "Cider – here you go Peter, afraid they only had the fruit one. Bitter for you James, you strange creature with malfunctioning tastebuds. Sirius, your horrible cheap wine, and my lovely lovely Amaretto," and he stopped, having just noticed the round of shots on the table.
"Oh, apparently if you win, you get a round of shots. Peter picked tequila," James said, grinning wickedly.
"Oh no," said Remus.
"Oh yes," Peter said, shoving a shot glass towards him. "Bottoms up."
The tequila went down a treat, and three shots later – and the drinks Remus had bought – James and Sirius were standing on a table, swaying slightly, and singing Livin' on a Prayer. They were harmonising, impressively, but then Lily threw a bread roll at James and they were forced to seek refuge under the table.
Sirius wobbled, and clutched at a nearby knee for balance. "Oh sorry," he said to the knee, and then Remus's face appeared, grinning.
"I have ticklish knees, so I wouldn't do that unless you want your teeth kicked out," Remus told him, smiling sweetly. "Want to go for a smoke?"
Sirius sat up straight, almost hitting his head on the table. "Give me one minute to – extract myself," he said, and crawled out from under the table. A bread roll clipped his ear. "Run, Remus!" he said, and they did.
Sat on the wall outside in the brisk October evening air, they saw a black cat run in front of them. "Bad luck, that," said Sirius. "Do you ever think about how every year you pass the date of your death? I'm nearly twenty-six now, and it's just – almost twenty-six anniversaries of my death and I don't even know it. Maybe I'm just getting morbid because Halloween's approaching – Jeremiah in my year eight physics spent half an hour telling me about how the Book of Revelations can be linked to ghosties and ghouls – "
"You're pissed," said Remus, reasonably. He began to roll a cigarette, and Sirius tried not to watch too closely. "Why don't you roll, Sirius?" he asked.
Sirius shrugged. "Never got the hang of it, I s'pose," he said.
"Want me to show you?" Remus asked him, leaning in a little closer. "I'll teach you – give me your hands," he said, and Sirius duly presented him with his hands. "Okay, so first you get the tobacco you need – bit more – and yep, yeah, put it on the filter paper. Make sure the paper's the right way up. Then, you take it like this, roll it between your fingers like this – " he moved his hands onto Sirius's, and Sirius felt his touch all the way to his marrow – "until it's nice and smooth. Filter in, yeah, like that. Then lick the edge up to seal it – I used to do that with joints, no idea if it actually works too well on cigarettes – " and Remus adjusted the filter, rolled the cigarette, and licked along the seal. Sirius remembered what he had said about his tongue piercing, and felt his stomach swoop again, and had to bite his lip to stop himself from doing or saying something he might regret.
Remus handed him the cigarette, and shifted a little closer to him. "There you go," he said. "Spark up, it's cold."
"Want my jacket?" said Sirius, and he took off his leather jacket. "I'm not sure it'll go with your fluffy jumper," and Remus elbowed him and nodded his thanks, shoving has arms through the sleeves. It was a little too short for him.
"You know," said Sirius, lighting his cigarette. "You're – I'm really glad Snape stole your classroom. I'm really glad you're next to me in school, and next to me here. And I'm so glad we won the pub quiz! And I want – " he paused, looking at Remus, who looked back at him with eyes that had darkened in the gloom. "I want – " he said again, and Remus leaned in to kiss him, hand curling in his hair, and Sirius brought him closer with his hands on his own jacket collar, and then James came out the pub with Sirius's bike helmet under his arm, wobbling, and singing Les Misérablesunder his breath.
"Time to go, lads," he said. "Come on Sirius, you can collect your bike tomorrow, you only came in on it today to show off – "
"Shut up," said Sirius, but it was true; they lived ten minutes' walk away. Remus stood up, brushing the damp from his trousers, and then turned to Sirius.
"Here's your jacket –"
"Keep it," said Sirius, quickly. "I live ten minutes away, I'll be fine – how're you getting home?"
"My flatmate is here to drive me – honestly, take the jacket, I'll feel terrible – "
Sirius shook his head. "It looks better on you, anyway. You can give it to me tomorrow," and then he blushed, replaying that last sentence in his head until the words warped.
"Come on, Prince Charming," said James. "We're off, night Remus!"
Remus nodded slowly. "Night James, night Sirius. Hope you're not feeling too horrendous in the morning," and he walked back into the pub, wearing Sirius's too-small jacket. James and Sirius stood and watched him go.
"Fuck," they both said, as one.
"Did you – like, make sweet love under the moon? Or was it just gentlemenlike handjobs, inside the trousers for warmth?" James asked, as they turned homewards.
"None of that," said Sirius, as if his mind wasn't turning over those images in his head. "We didn't even kiss. Our hands did brush at one point as he was teaching me to roll – "
"You started rolling when you were sixteen, Sirius Orion Black," said James. "And it's only pretension that has driven you back to straights, you tart– " and Sirius laughed.
"We almost kissed, I think," he said, as James fumbled with the key.
"Almost," James repeated. "Ah, was that when I interrupted you? I'm so sorry, fuck. Although you know he fancies you, and who wouldn't fancy him – I think I came over a little dizzy when he said goodnight to me, although my heart belongs to Lily. Dear God, did I tell you what she said to me when we were sorting out classrooms? She said if I lead the football team to success, run the school play, and get the best history results Hogwarts has ever seen, I might be in with a chance," and Sirius hummed.
"She probably likes you then. I don't think she's the type to play games. It's a bit like a quest. Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table," said Sirius, and then he stopped. "Fuck," he said, as they climbed the stairs. "Mate – play idea – Knights of the Round Table. And Remus will get involved, because he loves all that ye olde literature shite. And Lily will see the romance of it all and fall in love with you! And the kids will like it. It can bring together the subjects! English and History can work on the script, Drama can do the acting bollocks, Physics and Art can do the sets and the lighting, French can… just sit in the back and wear a beret or something. Chemistry can work on all the little magicky bits in the story. Oh my God. This is brilliant – "and he wrote a quick reminder on his phone, and then he passed out.
The next morning saw both James and Sirius wake up on the stairs, at twenty past eight. "Shit!" said James, hurling himself into the shower. Sirius made some coffee, took a couple of aspirin, and shoved all their stuff into their bags. As soon as James was out the shower – glasses steamed up again – he was downstairs. "I'll start on breakfast!" he yelled, and Sirius had the quickest shower of his life, neglecting even to condition his hair.
As they ate their eggs, the gravity of the night's events hit them. "We have a brilliant idea for a play," said Sirius. "And Remus almost kissed me, and Lily didn't try to hit you once- "
"I love the pub quiz," James said, as they jogged briskly down the road to school. "I love the pub quiz, but we are never forgetting to set any alarms again, agreed?"
"Agreed," gasped Sirius, regretting his early-morning cigarette. "And we're not sleeping on the stairs either, because my neck feels like it's been rearranged by some sort of large, lumbering reptile."
They got into their classrooms just as the bell went, and by the time the pupils filed in, Sirius was breathing normally. That, however, went away as soon as he saw the note in the register.
"You lot," he said to his year tens, "stop chewing gum for a minute. It seems that the school board, in all their infinite wisdom, have decided to inspect us on Monday morning. We have a play to organise, and the football team – listen up, Jenkins – the football team have their big fixture – match, I don't know, I played rugby – next week as well. It'll have to be a tight ship," and the pupils stared at him.
"We'll have to stop – mucking around. No more heads down thumbs up. We will have to spend the morning doing educational stuff – "
"We've only got half an hour for form, sir," said Charlie, who was on the football team. "And my mum wants me to audition for the play – do you know anything more about it?"
"The play will look excellent on your applications to sixth form – oh yes, you have to not only get the grades to continue here, but also apply and be accepted – and if you lie about the dates a bit it'll look good on your university applications. Lots of my AS classes have expressed interest – "
"Morning Mr. Black," said Remus, poking his head round the door. "Just got this in the pigeonhole – we're to be doing King Arthur as the play. Good idea, actually – "
"When did I – when did I suggest this?" Sirius said, racking his brains.
"Ah, every member of staff received an email about it at I think four this morning. It was perfectly lucid up until the point at which you mentioned me – " and then Remus paused, to grin at him wickedly. "I can't tell you in front of the class. I'll show you at breaktime," and off he went, whistling.
Sirius stared after him. "Good god," he said, and then turned back to the class. "We're doing King Arthur. I'm sure you all know the story: he's destined to be king, the king who was and will be, and he grows up and unites England and stuff. And then his best mate shags his wife and it all goes rather downhill – "
"Sir," said Charlie, who was bound for somewhere like Cambridge. "I don't think that's quite as nuanced as it deserves." The bell rang.
Sirius could hardly wait for breaktime, and found himself gabbling through his lessons, and half-forgetting how to demonstrate the double-split experiment. Year Nine left physics slightly confused. At breaktime, he paced his classroom, fiddling with his tie, and then Remus appeared.
"So this email, then. I thought I put it as a reminder on my phone – "
"Oh no" said Remus, laughing. "You managed, in your drunken state, to not only enable the "Send to All" function, but also told everyone about how pretty my eyes were, which was lovely to read – "
"Oh no," said Sirius. "Oh no. Oh god, please, no. You're making this up, you must be," and he fell silent when Remus presented him with a printout of the email in question. Sirius read it in silence, whilst Remus snickered.
"It could be worse," he said. "At least you didn't talk about how much you wanted to kiss me last night, or how I was going to kiss you back. I mean, you could have mentioned how much you want to get on your knees for me, probably under my desk – "
Sirius made a strange keening sound, and Remus looked amused. "I shouldn't wind you up, I'm sorry, but that was just something James suggested I try. Are you – are you alright?" he added, as Sirius leant heavily on a desk.
"Fine," said Sirius. "Yep, fine, I just need to – " and he fled the room, rushing to the men's toilets. Luckily it was empty, and he shoved his trousers past his hips and stroked himself, biting the skin on his arm to stop himself from choking out Remus's name. He stood shaking, breathing too heavily to have been doing anything else, when the sheer wrongness of what he had done hit him. "Fuck," he said, into the silence, and cleaned himself up as quickly as possible. When he looked in the mirror he saw the same old Sirius he always sow, but the mirror couldn't show him how his stomach flipped when Remus smiled at him, or how he would never forget the way his heart soared when Remus had raised an eyebrow and asked him if he was alright in the classroom. "Fuck," he said again, and went to find James.
"We've got ten minutes," James said to him, blowing a whistle. "Oi, Perkins! Kick the bloody ball, it's made of leather, it's already dead! Kick it!" and then turned to him. "You've been wanking, you weirdo," he said. Sirius counted to ten and wondered when it was that James had started being able to smell that on him, or was it his breathing, or was it his slightly flushed face?
"The play's on then," Sirius said instead of all this. "Remus came to see me, told me I emailed the whole school about his pretty eyes, or something. Fuck's sake – "
"Yeah yeah, but we also have the play. The quest! And I am halfway into shaping this lot to be a decent team, which is alright but we have a week. By the time of the finals, they'll be good enough to beat bloody Brazil, I reckon. And then it's just getting the results, and Lily will be mine. Oh, did Remus talk to you about blowjobs?" and James turned back to the game as if he hadn't just said the word "blowjob" on a school playground.
"Yeah, I should never have told you about Frank Longbottom, you know I'm slutty and desperate –"
James grinned, wickedly. "That's why I told him to mention it. I didn't think you go and wank about it, just thought you'd think about it all day and do that squirmy thing you do when you're turned on in a public place. Which happens rather a lot, by the way. Score! Score, or are your legs turned to jelly? I think not, so get the bloody ball – yes! Yes, you beauties! Two up, bring it home," he bawled to the team.
"Okay, so the play. We've got the standard theatre kids, some of whom have been in the West End, and want to play all the roles. There's the kids whose mothers are making them do the play, for their CVs. There's the kids doing it for their CVs, and then people who want to try something new. Why they want to try anything new," Sirius said, "is anybody's guess. Like that time Perkins over there decided he wanted to make TNT in the classroom and poor Lily nearly lost her eyebrows, and her job. It's just unnecessary, really. Oh, and there's that inspection as well," he added.
"Fuck, yeah," said James. "I've heard it's that Umbridge woman. Never got into teacher training, so she wreaks revenge on anyone who won't toe the line. Some say she used to be a teacher, and was sacked for bullying a pupil. I imagine she'll get on rather well with Snape," he said. "Either way, it's not good."
The weekend was a flurry of preparation for observations: lesson plans checked to the last comma, classrooms disinfected, emails sent to parents to warn them. James and Sirius selected the best worker, the worst ("least able") student, and a few ones content to bob along in the middle from each class. They were battle-ready.
They saw her as soon as they walked into the staffroom that day. She was a small woman with smaller eyes, but a swollen face and neck. Her suit was pink and looked as though it had been in vogue at the coronation; her nails were the same colour, and as long as talons. "Hello," she said, in a high-pitched voice of the kind that people use when they talk to babies and fluffy animals. "I'm Dolores, and I'll be assessing you! We're going to get along so well, aren't we?"
Sirius blinked at her. Remus walked into him from behind, apologised, and then went towards his classroom, shooting Sirius a significant look as he did so. Sirius followed Remus into the classroom.
"She'll hate us. Me because of the tattoos, the ambiguous sexuality and the not posh enough accent, and you for the motorbike, the unambiguous sexuality and the too posh accent. We can't win. But I wanted to say – " and he stepped a little closer – "would you fancy a drink sometime? Just me and you, not the Three Broomsticks. Maybe the Dog and Bacon? It's a little further from the school, and it has a lovely little pub garden, and – "
"Yes!" blurted Sirius. "I mean, I'd love to. Maybe after the inspection? And I want to have the play cast by February half-term, which I know is a term away but I'd love to get the script and stuff done by Christmas, which only gives us this week and then the winter term, really – "
Remus smiled at him. "What about this coming half-term then? We go for a drink, see how we enjoy it?"
Sirius grinned as widely as he had ever done. "I'd love that," he said.
The next lesson for Sirius was with some year twelves surly about having to unlearn all they had learned before. Even before he had said "Quantum physics!" he sensed the class were against him.
"Right, so we've always talked of the nucleus as being the smallest part of an atom. But that's not actually true – "
"Fuck's sake," said Perkins, as it it were a personal slight.
"Do you often allow swearing in your classes, Mr. Black?" said Umbridge, from where she was sat in the darkness of the astronomy corner. "I find it most distasteful, personally."
"We swear all the fucking time, Miss," said Perkins. Sirius resisted the urge to put his head in his hands, but he did clench his fists slightly.
Lunchtime could not have come sooner; he spent the time moodily smoking by the piles of leaves raked up by children given punishments. Remus saw him out there and waved, but Sirius couldn't face company; he waved back, but turned his back.
"Alright?" said Lily, walking towards him. Her boots were crunching in the leaves, and her hair was shining in the midday sun, bright against the brilliant blue sky. "Came to keep you company," and she smiled at him. He felt slightly dishonest, receiving such a beautiful smile, and so he smiled back and dragged his feet slightly and stood up.
"I've heard more about Umbridge," she said. "She's from that awful school board thingy that was set up in the fifties, and she works for a man called Riddle, and I'm sorry to use such language but she's almost certainly that nasty sort of Conservative who wants all the people who aren't white straight cisgender Middle England to be rounded up. The woman brought her own teapot with her. Her own teapot. It's disgusting," and she reached out for a drag of his third cigarette.
"Ah," said Sirius. "So – we're all slightly doomed, then? The company we keep, if not our own… defects. This feels so sordid. Like Pride. I am always so happy when Pride is over, so that I can go back to being ashamed – "
"Sirius," she said. "Riddle has built up a little conclave of – followers, seems the only appropriate word. We've got a fight on our hands, if we want to pass this inspection at all," she added, grimly. She took another drag of his cigarette.
"Look, have a whole one," Sirius said, magnamoniously. "I know where Peter has hidden some scones – fancy one? There's jam and clotted cream and all, but I can't remember if people from Dorset have jam first or cream first. Shall we?" and he offered her his arm, as if it were a hundred years ago, and she smiled and took it and together they crunched through the leaves towards the staff room, smoking and laughing about nothing.
The staff room was busy. "We're all doomed," Peter announced to nobody in particular. "I remember Riddle – we used to have a student newspaper at university, and he, from whatever awful hole he lived in, used to spend all his energy on shutting us down. I think he did it at a few," and he ate a scone. Sirius couldn't see whether he had the jam or the cream on top.
"I remember his name, actually," James said slowly. "You're talking about the Phoenix? I didn't know many other unis had set up their own," and he added another sugar to his tea.
"We had one," said Remus. "The university hated it because it was about corruption and that's the main way you get to become a professor: political secrets. And everything is political. A third-year, when I was a fresher, ran it with his brother. And then someone found out that Fabian was a trans guy and it was shut down. And here, we're going to have the same problem, probably. Like, how many of the staff here are at least straight?"
"I am," said Peter. There was a slight paused. "I think I am, anyway. Never challenged the default thinking and that, but yeah. I am fairly sure."
"That's great," said Sirius bracingly. "How in hell are we going to – pass this inspection? What would the Phoenix do? At my uni we just got high all the time and wrote stuff about the recent Chancellor's dodgy activities, but here – well. Drugs are bad," he said, and then added, "I have been told. I have never done drugs."
"I have," said Peter. "Only weed though, but my friends tried to get me to do like, other stuff. I said no though. Get thee behind me, stuff you have to snort – "
"We're getting off track," said Lily. "All we can do is simply do as well on this as possible. We can't let the kids swear, we have to focus on the play, because that looks like we can cope with stuff. Oh God, I can't cope with stuff," she said, and took an enormous gulp of coffee.
"Has the play, erm, actually been written?" asked Frank Longbottom, who had a brilliant mind, a brilliant degree, but was too besotted with the drama teacher to actually be much good at teaching psychology.
"Ah," said Remus.
That night saw Remus and Sirius sat in Sirius's little living room, coffee cups constantly refilled by James, who shouted the odd thing about historical accuracy from the kitchen.
"So, if we just cut the Tristan and Isolde thing – bit, well, love potions don't strike me as particularly ethical," said Remus. Sirius nodded.
"Yeah, good idea. So that gives us: Arthur's birth, Uther's death, then the sword in the stone – we can talk to DT, they might rustle up something decent – and then a quick thing about the unification of the kingdom. This play is very pro-monarchy, and I feel slightly uncomfortable. Do we need the Grail stuff? I mean, I reckon it'll be so tainted by the Dan Brown shite – "
"James," said Remus. "Holy Grail, yes or no?"
James demurred, handed them each some jaffa cakes. "I'd say no, for time. I mean, it's a bloody long story. So then we could just cut from that to some quests of the knights, give each drama kid the part of a knight, they can show off. And then straight to Mordred – oh shit, we need the Arthur-drowning-all-the-kids bit, the King Herod stuff. So, put that in before the unification of the kingdom."
Remus nodded. "I mean, the best stories are the ones we already know, so to be honest people will enjoy it. It's purely a CV building exercise, such is the nature of education today. And then we just need the Lancelot and Guinevire stuff, the war, the death of Arthur. We can ask the music A-level lot to write some sad keening music."
"And," said Sirius, "that'll satisfy the performance requirements of their A-level, I think. I'll ask Flitwick. Happy days! Pass the coffee, Remus," and Remus did so.
The first rehearsal went atrociously. Umbridge sat in the back and made copious notes about presumably everything from the state of James's hair to the cellist on the end who kept dropping her bow. The French students sung a song about Malory, accompanied by cacophonous cymbals. Remus winced a lot.
"Come on, you lot," said James. "This is important. It's November and we'll be doing the bloody thing in January, dealing as it does with the king who was and will be. So we shall do it then, to signify, erm, new beginnings. If it's bad enough that England should be threatened, hopefully Arthur will wake up and help us. Or something, I haven't really read it yet."
Lily looked at him from where she was supervising coloured smoke experiments with the year sevens. "Hang on, does Arthur sail away on the boat or sleep under the hill?"
James looked stricken for a second. "He – sails on the boat, which takes him under the hill. In like, Wales. Or Cornwall? No, that was Tintagel. It's just that this entire school is built right by Cadbury Castle, which is thought to be the sight of Camelot! It just makes sense. Hey, someone talk about that. Jake, you do it, you're good at that sort of thing – "
"Making stuff up on the fly?" said Jake. "Thanks sir, I'm going to be a politician," and he started to scribble something at the top of his script.
"Right, from the top!" shouted James.
As November drizzled into December, the play began to take shape. The football team won their first match, and the day after they emerged, grinning and mud covered, from the minibus, Umbridge's report landed on Dumbledore's desk.
He called an assembly, and preparations for the play meant that they had all had to miss the pub quiz that week. Sirius sulked until Remus gave him a Bounty bar from his secret stash.
"Morning all," said Dumbledore, hands outstretched. He looked slightly like a wizened old wizard. It wouldn't have surprised anyone in the slightest if he had been. "We got the results of our inspection today – it seems we passed, by the skin of our teeth."
The teachers breathed a sigh of relief as one. The pupils shifted on their chairs.
"But I thought it would be a good time to mention something," Dumbledore went on. "We all have to do things we don't want to do, and we all are disappointed when we don't do as well on things as we should have. But that doesn't matter, you see. What matters is how we rose to the challenge, how Mr. Potter and Miss Evans got the play going well, how Mr. Black and Mr. Lupin wote it in a night. How you all learned your lines, your parts to the music, your one-liners for the court jesters. You've all done so well, and now – with a month to go until opening night, but that month includes Christmas and New Year, of course – now the end is nigh. I mean, the end is in sight," and he cleared his throat. "I want you all to work very hard for me. You're all involved in this play, and no matter what house you're in – "
"Why do we have houses?" hissed Remus to Sirius.
Sirius smiled. "Ah, it's a remnant of when this was a private school. Then it became a grammar school, and now it's just a comprehensive. The houses all date back to the founders, so they all have stupid names – "
"Mr. Black," said Dumbledore. "Please refrain from whispering conspiratorially to Mr. Lupin, whilst assembly is in progress. Other than that, whisper all you like," and he smiled at them. Remus blinked.
"In summary," went on Dumbledore, "We all have to work together in these times. We have to look for friends in unlikely places, and stand up to those who would see harm done to this school. We're all in this together," he added.
"Does he know that's from High School Musical?" whispered a voice from the amassed pupils.
"I did indeed know that, Mr. Brown," said Dumbledore. "Ten points to Hufflepuff."
"So, is there anything in this school not ridiculously archaic? Some of the classrooms have blackboards. The science labs are meant to be haunted. The staircases are – temperamental. And the House Cup? Wait, which house are we in?" Remus said, pacing up and down beside his collection of chocolate.
"We're in Gryffindor," said Sirius. "See, the red classroom doors? Each house has five teachers in it. Slytherin, who always beat us in the football, only have three: the Carrows – you've not met them, they're on compassionate leave, which is ridiculous as I'm not sure they're capable of feeling compassion – and Snape. He spends his time skulking in his maths room, and then emerging occasionally to scream at a child for wearing gloves in his classroom corridor. Erm, Ravenclaw used to be the brainy house – we used to sort based on attributes – and their teachers are Mr. Lovegood – not sure if you've met him yet actually. He and I get on quite well actually, both into astronomy. Except he's into astrology as well," and he shrugged.
"What does Lovegood teach? And where do all these people spend their time?" said Remus, breaking off a bit of Kinder Bueno.
"He teaches art," Sirius said. "He has a biology degree actually, but he was taken in by one too many unicorn hoaxes and skipped off to do finger-painting instead. When he's not teaching he's up there," and Sirius pointed towards the art building. "He practically haunts the place. Oh, and Ravenclaw also has Binns, who might as well be dead, the amount of teaching he actually does. He shares History with James, but he just mumbles about like, the Angevin empire. Big neo-colonialist," and Sirius took the proffered piece of Kinder Bueno. "Cheers."
"Okay, that's – some of Ravenclaw. Lily told me she used to be there but she was moved. I know they wanted to put me in there, but changed their minds. And then there's Hufflepuff as well, right?"
Sirius narrowed his eyes. "This won't come up in the pub quiz, you know. But there's Frank Longbottom, unfortunate name. He's only there because they needed a Head of House. He came here in the grammar school days and he was Gryffindor – that's where he met Lily. She got into the grammar, her sister had to go to the secondary modern. I'm not sure who else is in Hufflepuff, actually. Probably everyone else. That's the way it seems to work."
"Gotcha," said Remus. "Fancy a pint tonight? We never went for that drink, did we?"
Sirius smiled.