"So what is this, then?" Sirius Black said, rolling his eyes. Remus felt his heart skip a beat. Those stupid eyes.

"Uh, school dance," muttered Remus.

Sirius practically snorted. "Oh, yeah? Since when has Hogwarts had school dances? I swear, James, if I find out that this was a prank-"

"A prank, no," James corrected grandly, "A new tradition, invented by James Fleamont Potter himself, to create a night of wild enjoyment for his friends? Perhaps."

"How'd you manage that?" Peter asked, wide-eyed.

"Went to McGonagall. She's a sucker for traditional stuff. I said the word 'ball' and her eyes lit up, I swear." James swept a hand through his hair carelessly- well, not carelessly, Remus knew, but James had put a lot of time into making that gesture look effortless, and he had done a good job.

Remus pulled at the collar of his dress robes absentmindedly. He was not that enthused about a school dance. Sirius would go off and flirt with his gaggle of admirers, Remus being ever-so-careful as always not to appear as one of them, and James would go talk to Evans and her friends, and Peter would tail James like usual, and Remus would be left in a corner with his textbooks. It's not like his friends meant to leave him out, of course; in social situations, Remus tried hard to stay on the sidelines.

"Color looks good on you, Moony," Sirius said lightly. Remus looked down. His dress robes were battered and old like the rest of his possessions, but they were a rather nice shade of bottle green.

"Thanks," he said, looking at the ground. Sirius was wearing a too-tight black suit that almost certainly belonged to Regulus, but it accentuated his forearms and his calves in all the right places, and the top two or three buttons of his shirt were left open and why couldn't Sirius Black ever button a shirt correctly, why must Remus be tortured all the time.

"Do I get a compliment back?" Sirius teased.

"I don't think you need one," Remus said, "seeing as your ego's practically bursting through that suit."

"My ego and my abs," Sirius agreed. "Ah, well, the girls will like it."

A tinge of annoyance flared up in Remus's stomach. He cleared his throat and kept walking.

"I'm excited," Peter said happily, "how about you guys?"

"I've been waiting for this moment my whole life," said Remus sarcastically. Sarcasm, of course, sailed right over Peter's head, and the boy laughed in agreement.

Up ahead in the hallway, James stopped abruptly.

"What's wrong?" Sirius asked. "Oh."

"Snivellus," said James.

The nickname used to reflect a petty childhood rivalry, but now, after what happened with Evans last year, even Remus was taken aback by the loathing in James's voice.

"Potter," Snape spat.

"You headed to the ball?" asked James.

"Yes," Snape replied quietly.

"Damnit, I was really trying to schedule this so that it'd conflict with Death Eater Club."

Snape's nostrils flared, and he took out his wand, turning on James. "Don't talk about what you don't understand, Potter, you… you Mudblood-loving, filthy little blood traitor brat-"

The wand sailed out of his hand and landed in Remus's. Remus was a little taken aback; he was not conscious of having cast the nonverbal spell. "No magic in the corridors, I'm afraid, Snape," he said pleasantly, flashing his Head Boy badge. "Can I trust you with this?" he wiggled the wand. He was impressed how calm he appeared on the outside; on the inside he shook with anger on Lily's behalf.

Snape was seething. "Yes," he muttered through gritted teeth.

"You know, I think you'd better not," said James quietly. He stepped closer to Snape, who backed away, defenseless without his wand. "You're a fucking bigot, Severus, and if I hear the m word leave your lips again I will grab the vocal cords out of your throat myself."

With narrowed eyes, Snape nodded slowly. James turned and started to walk away, then doubled back, punching Snape in the face without a word. Sirius and Peter walked right past the crumpled figure on the floor, without even an expression of concern.

"Episkey," Remus muttered, fixing Snape's broken nose and handing him back his wand, hating himself entirely for it.