"Remus?"

"Mm?"

"You know about the stars, don't you?"

Remus looked up from his piercing stare into the cold, muddy grass to blink sideways at Sirius. He was gazing fixedly out into the dark night air, lips pulled into a straight line and his finely crafted brows pushed together ever so slightly in deep consideration.

"Ah… Well I'm not an expert, Padfoot…" The werewolf began, but was saved from an embarrassing explanation of celestial knowledge and his lack there-of by the inquisitor himself. Sirius had shot an accusing finger in the air with a tight, even arm.

"What's that one called, then?"

Remus looked beside himself. It's not like he was expecting a pop quiz on the subject, especially not from the black-haired boy. Remus felt guilty for thinking it, but he figured Sirius would be a person to know his stars - what with his family's naming traditions. "Oh. Um…" he broke off in a sort of nervous chuckle, "Ask me all you want about the moon, but when it comes to the stars, I only know a few."

The pure-blood dropped his hand into his jean-clad lap dejectedly, still looking where it was directing. His voice had changed. Now calm but deep, like a slumbering ocean, he murmured, "Well. Doesn't matter, I guess. What's in a name, after all? That which we call a rose by any other name… would smell as sweet."

The lithe, double-sweater clad male perked up, his thick and unkempt brows now raised. His lips pulled unevenly up and down. He didn't know if he was impressed or… or what. So he blinked over wide, golden eyes a few times and shrugged - to himself more than anything. "Did you just recite Shakespeare, Padfoot?" Remus ask, almost sounding as if he hadn't heard what Sirius said. When he half-nodded in response, he laughed shortly, "Oh, you're turning into a classic romantic! What's happened to you?"

Sirius had been pulling at a blade of grass absently and looked up slowly. "Romantic? You call that play romantic? Definition of pure stupidity, if I ever saw it," Sirius huffed. When his tawny-haired companion stared at him gently with a slightly titled head, he sat up straighter and threw the blade of grass down. "What people don't realise or teach very often is that Shakespeare never had any intent of writing that play as a beautiful, heart-wrenching, romantic tragedy. It was supposed to show how stupid teenagers can be, how easily they think they're in love – more to poke fun than make people go 'oh how sad they killed themselves for their love ,oh how motherfucking sad, they just wanted to be together forever, wahhhh their love is eternal.' It's pathetic, really!" He'd worked himself into a bit of a thick-breath and Remus was looking at him as though he was the most entertaining Muggle-toy on the market ; Broad, slightly open-mouthed, toothy grin, eyes wide again and twinkling.

"When did you read Romeo and Juliet, Pads?" he said, voice sounding as though it'd been dipped in clouds.

Sirius looked perplexed for a moment and stood up, releasing two handfuls of picked-apart grass blades over Remus' head before starting up the hill back to the castle.