Prologue
That was the second time this week. The second time he'd actually had to sit on the other side of the table to stop his gaze wondering over to her.
Sirius Black shoved his plate of toast over to the other side of the table and ducked underneath it to save himself walking all the way round, ignoring the bemused looks of James, Remus and Peter.
"Do I smell or something, Padfoot?" James joked, and Sirius attempted a lighthearted grin.
"Don't be stupid, Prongs. I can just reach the eggs better from here, that's all," Sirius lied back, and ignored James' suspicious, arched eyebrow.
"If you say so, Padfoot," he said cheerily, "but don't forget that I always know when something's up with you."
"And what could possibly be up with me," Sirius retorted sarcastically. He'd never guess anyway. "I have some weird disease which causes me to spontaneously swap sides of the table?"
"Either that," James said through a mouthful of toast, "or you've got some mad crush on Moony and just want to sit next to him."
Both Sirius and Remus blushed at that, though James and Peter seemed oblivious.
Of course, the truth was much, much worse.