Hello. So this is just a random one-shot loosely based on a conversation a friend and I had once. Of course I own nothing, though I would love to take one Remus Lupin home with me...


"…and really, my dear, that's just a whole 'nother kettle of fish…"

Sirius Black vaguely took in the scene before him. Professor Slughorn stood at the front of the classroom, responding to a question that Lily Evans had asked, which involved some sort of advanced potion that, Sirius believed, really had no business in their sixth year class. At least that is what he would have believed, if his mind were not elsewhere.

"What are fish doing in a kettle? I mean, do people normally boil fish?" Sirius wondered aloud, deciding for once to "actively listen," as Remus Lupin was always telling him to do. Never mind the fact that he chose to focus on the least important bit of the lesson.

"Eh?" said James Potter, from his spot on Sirius' left. His eyes had a glassy, unfocused look to them as he stared at the area where Lily, still questioning Slughorn, sat.

"The fish. Since when are fish in kettles?"

"What're you on about?" It was clear that James had not heard Sirius, let alone Slughorn.

"Ol' Sluggy over there," Sirius responded, impatient. "Just now he said, 'that's a whole 'nother kettle of fish,' and what I would like to know is what the bloody hell those fish are doing in a kettle in the first place? I mean, what, are they just in temporary housing? Taking a nice holiday? The lake isn't good enough for them?"

James finally tore his gaze from Lily's red hair and eyed Sirius warily, as if wondering if this was the start of a new one of Sirius Black's Personal Vendettas, this time against fish.

"Well maybe they're being boiled, like to eat," he put forth. A reasonable proposal. Or so he thought.

"Since when do people boil fish to eat?" Sirius retorted, as if he was waiting for this answer. "I mean, I'm no house elf, but…" and he trailed off, affronted with a sudden and horrifying image of himself dressed in Kreacher's loin cloth, groveling at his mother's feet. He was spared from taking the picture any further, however, by James.

"Maybe it was before they had butter?" he suggested.

Sirius looked at him, eyebrows raised.

"Really," he deadpanned. "That was the best you could come up with. 'Before they had butter.' Really, Prongs, and you wonder why Evans over there always calls you an idiot." He was starting to laugh now, which caused Remus, who was sitting on the other side of James, to lean over the boy and glare at Sirius. He promptly quelled his laughter, looked up at Slughorn, who was still fawning over Lily, and then turned back to James. The bespectacled marauder wore an expression that was a mixture of guilt, confusion, and the unmistakable signs that he too had been forced to hold in his own laughter.

"Yeah…" began James, searching wildly for a way to make his answer sound even remotely intelligent, "you know, like, it was before they had butter to help cook the fish, so they had to… er… boil 'em," he finished lamely.

"But what does butter have to do with anything?"

"I dunno" shrugged James, defeated. He decided it was best to quit before he embarrassed himself any further.

"Right then," said Sirius. "Besides, Prongs, I'm pretty sure butter's been around for a while. It's not exactly complicated is it?"

"Hmm… No. You're probably right, Padfoot. For once, I mean," James added, upon seeing Sirius' smirk. "How old do you think it actually is?"

"Butter? Dunno. We should look it up."

"Yeah, okay."

Both boys turned to look at Remus.

"How old is butter?" James demanded of the werewolf.

Now, Remus Lupin, being friends with James and Sirius, was well used to said Marauders interrupting his studying, reading, note-taking in class, and really any other endeavor that would generally be known as productive. Although he was often unwillingly dragged into whatever they were doing, it was far more typical that he only quite willingly agreed to embrace the distraction, although he'd be damned if he let them know that. Seeing as how Potions was easily his worst subject and that he had could no longer make head nor tail of what Slughorn and Lily continued to discuss in the front of the classroom, Remus decided that this would be one of those rare occasions in which he did as Sirius was always telling him to do, which was to "actively pay no attention whatsoever in class." Setting his quill down, he turned to James.

"Sorry, but did you just ask me how old butter is?"

"Yes," said James, as if it was absolutely normal for one to suddenly ask their friend the approximate age of butter.

Remus raised his eyebrows and looked from James' to Sirius' faces, both of which held similar looks of anticipation, to look for any reasoning behind the question. Sighing he said, "I don't even want to know." Usually it was better to just accept it, and not ask questions that were best left unanswered.

Nevertheless, wanting to know the age of butter, while definitely not normal, seemed innocent enough, and Remus didn't see any foreseeable risks involved in divulging what little information he had on the subject.

"Um, well, I can't say I know a whole lot about butter—" Remus began, but he was cut off by Sirius.

"And it would be a bit strange if you did, Moony, though I can't say I'd be surprised if you knew all about it, seeing as how you're our resident know-it-all."

Remus scowled at Sirius. "Do you want me to tell you or not?"

Both boys nodded, Sirius smirking as he did so.

"Well, all I know is that it is easily thousands of years old. Ancient civilizations were using it. In fact, I believe the Ancient Greeks, from what I've read—"

"Alright Professor Moony, we get the idea," interrupted James this time, effectively cutting off Remus whilst giving the boy a pat on the head, much to the werewolf's disdain. "No need for a lecture on the entire history of spreadable dairy products."

"So in other words, Prongs," cut in Sirius, "people have been buttering their toast in the morning for many years, so your theory about why the fish are in the kettle is no good."

James grumbled, while Remus looked between the two raven-haired boys for explanation. "What do fish in a kettle have to do with anything?" he asked.

"Ask stag-boy over here," said Sirius, jabbing James in the arm with his quill.

James, rubbing his shoulder and glaring at Sirius, said, "Well, this filthy mutt here decided that he just had to know why fish were in a kettle, and I, deciding to humor him, said that maybe they were being boiled, which is apparently a ridiculous idea, so then I just went with it and said— "

"Slughorn said it before… 'that's a whole 'nother kettle of fish,'" Sirius once again interrupted. "I know you heard him, Moony, you listen to every word the professors say, you probably even wrote it down. I've seen the tomes that you call your notes."

Sirius reached over James in the attempt to grab Remus' notes to see if the more studious Marauder had indeed written it down, but Remus quickly pulled the stack of parchment out of the way and hid behind James. Luckily, the bell signaling the end of the lesson rang just as Sirius lunged across the table and around James in the attempt to tackle Remus and wrench the notes from his hands, so the commotion was lost in the din of students pushing their stools back from their tables, gathering their bags and exiting the classroom.

Remus quickly stuffed his notes into his bag, leaving Sirius to untangle himself from James. It wasn't long, however, before the two caught up with him as they made their way to Charms.

"It's just an expression you know," said Remus, as Sirius and James fell into step on either side of him. "It probably originated somehow from the fact that people did, as James suggested, boil fish in kettles."

"See! I was right!" James turned in triumph to Sirius, only to find that he was not paying attention to the conversation, but rather, was attempting to ever-so-discreetly steal Remus' Potions notes from his bag.

"Oi! What do you think you're doing?" yelled Remus as soon as he noticed what Sirius was doing. He was too late however, as the other boy was already holding up the parchment littered with Remus' tidy scrawl and dancing away from the werewolf's attempt to take them back.

James watched as Remus ran around the corner after Sirius, and faintly heard a yell of, "I don't believe it! You did write it down! Really, Moony, that's just a whole 'nother kettle of fish!"


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