AN: It's lucky I didn't say "without fail!" last time because… I've already failed. This is not Monday… not in any part of the world. Still… Tuesday will have to do.
They made it back to Gryffindor tower without Sirius murdering James who insisted on peppering the stony silence with confused: "But how could this happen?"s.
"I don't know, alright?" he snapped at last as James asked the dreaded question for the twenty-seventh time. "Just give me time to think."
"Password?" the fat lady inquired.
"James is a goody-two-shoes," Sirius told her, still scowling.
The portrait swung open and the three boys clambered through, James expressing his distaste about their new password.
Sirius scanned the common room briefly: Remus was not there. However, he could see Lily Evans, who had Ancient Runes with the missing Marauder, sitting by the fireplace.
"Oi Evans, is Remus up in the tower already?"
"Sorry?" She looked up, slightly surprised; slightly annoyed. Her face softened slightly as she saw that it wasn't Sirius shouting at her. "Oh, Peter: it's you. No, he's not here. He stayed behind to talk to Professor Finel about something."
Peter. Right: I'm Peter. "Oh… thanks… James."
James had stopped to say something to Lily who had only agreed not to despise him two months, a week and two days ago. He looked up and saw Peter glaring at him: a sight that was sufficiently incongruous to remind him of the situation even in the face of Miss Evans' many attractions. "Ah yes… right. Dormitory. Got it."
They trudged up the stairs, Sirius finding it peculiarly difficult to navigate the changing heights with legs that were shorter than normal. He flung the door open and hurled himself onto his own bed that now seemed odd: Peter's senses not used to his smell, and suppressed the urge to curl up and disappear until someone managed to fix this nightmare, or, if that was not an option, simply to scream very loudly until it went away. He did neither of these things, however: the Black training ingrained too deeply to relax its hold now, and, with difficulty, he managed to push himself into a dignified seated position and regarded the other two (or at least regarded James; it was too weird to look at Peter just yet.) "So," he said, calmly. "What the hell has happened?"
There was a pause whilst they all considered this.
"It doesn't make sense that Snape would want to switch you and Peter," James mused, apparently adapting quite well to the change as long as Sirius still behaved like Sirius.
"No, that's what I thought," Sirius replied, reaching up to fiddle with his hair and finding it too short. "…He must have been trying to swap bodies with me… which… is oddly flattering when you think about it-"
"Not to mention deeply disturbing," James added with a grin.
Sirius ignored him. "Clearly, he failed and cast it on Peter instead…for which I would like to thank Merlin for small mercies: I don't know if I could stand being Snivellus."
"You could always wash his hair and do us all a favour," James laughed.
"Agh no!" Sirius exclaimed with mock horror. "I'd be forced to shower with my boxers on constantly… Talk of that horror no more my dear Prongs: fortunately, it was averted by the timely arrival of yourself and Mr Wormtail." Tentatively he leant back against the head board of his bed. Nothing terrible happened. He exhaled. "First things first: how can we change it back and how quickly can we do it? Any ideas?"
"Restricted Section?" James offered. "Probably something in there that would help us if we knew the spell. Did you hear it?"
"No," Sirius frowned. "You didn't, I suppose?"
"If I had I wouldn't have asked you, now would I?"
"I'm under a lot of stress here, Jamie: be sympathetic." He forced himself to look at the person who was and was not himself. "Pete?"
There was a silence that James filled helpfully with some tuneless humming.
Eventually Peter said: "What, sorry?"
Sirius sighed exaggeratedly. "Did you hear the spell Snivellus cast, Wormtail?"
"No," Peter said. "Sorry."
"Are you… alright?" James asked, looking concerned. Sirius' first instinct was to say: "Why the hell shouldn't he be?" but, now he looked closer, he could see that Peter was rather pale; one of Sirius' elegant, ink stained hands twitching nervously on his lap.
"No, not really," Peter answered after a pause. "I… This is so weird, y'know? I feel like I've grown over night and haven't had time to adapt to it; my voice is wrong… it's like bloody puberty all over again."
"I resent that," Sirius said, with forced lightness. "This isn't exactly a dream experience for me either you know."
"No I know… Sorry, Padfoot. It's just like some sadistic wish fulfilment-"
"Wish fulfilment?" Sirius demanded, the tentative control he had over his anger snapping.
Peter blushed which was especially odd because, whilst Peter blushed all the time Sirius Black was only embarrassed on very special occasions and had not blushed at any of those. "Well, you know… I'm… the plain best friend… I've always kinda hoped…" He laughed bitterly: a sound that fit into Sirius' mouth much more naturally. "I never thought it would happen and now it has I…" He paused and tried a smile. "Don't worry about me Prongs. I'm fine really… Let's just work on trying to fix it."
"Agreed," James said, still looking worried. "Second thing first: Do we tell Dumbledore?" He looked around as he always did before announcing his decision, gauging their reactions before he told them what he thought. "My vote's for no."
"Mine too," Peter offered, which was excessively un-surprising since he always agreed with James. "We can work this out on our own and, if we tell Dumbledore, Snivellus will know he's got to us which is bad, right?"
"A good point," James agreed, automatically taking the role of chairman. "Sirius?"
Sirius was torn.
On one hand, he hated being Peter: he knew that already. Everything felt wrong, as the smaller boy had already stated. It wasn't like taking the Polyjuice Potion where you physically became the other person: your limbs grew to the specifications of new genetic information. No, this was a rough shift into someone else's form that you didn't quite fit into: like trying to insert a small wooden square into a large circular hole on a child's toy: it could be pushed into place as long as you didn't mind it sticking to the sides in places and leaving large semi-circular gaps round the edges in others.
That was bad enough. Worse, however, was the bit of his mind that said: "being intelligent isn't enough; people like you because you look like that… not like Peter."
It might be true but Sirius had been perfectly happy not knowing and he had been rather looking forward to keeping things that way. Being Peter offered opportunities for self discovery that he should have been willing to explore but that he knew he didn't want. Sirius just wanted to be Sirius Black: to be witty and intelligent, to be the only Gryffindor in a house of Blacks, to be James Potter's best friend, to be Padfoot and yes, alright, fine: to be the best looking boy Hogwarts had seen for years. Once he'd finally left his parents' house he'd thought everything had a chance of working out alright after all: this could ruin it.
On the other hand he also hated the idea of Snape winning.
"We don't tell Dumbledore," he agreed finally. "We find a solution on our own."
"Excellent," James beamed. "Research! Moony will love it."
"Do we tell Moony?" Peter asked hesitantly.
Sirius lobbed a pillow at him. "Of course we do, you fool. He'd know anyway."
"You think?" James grinned wickedly. "Let's see how long it takes him then."
"A galleon on under ten minutes."
"You're on," James agreed. "And no cheating which includes talking like you until he guesses so don't even think about it, Padfoot."
Sirius, who had been planning on exactly that, sighed exaggeratedly and shook James' hand. "Prongs you will be the death of me… but, for now, you have yourself a deal."
"If we're not going to tell Dumbledore do we have to act like each other all the time?" Peter asked, nervously.
"I… hadn't thought about," James confessed. "But yer I guess you'll have to. It shouldn't be too hard though."
"Easy for you to say," Sirius countered. "You just have to be you."
"True," James admitted. "But you two have known each other for seven years… I'm sure it'll be fine."
"What about classes?" Peter piped up, looking positively terrified. "Sirius always knows the answers… How am I go-"
"Don't worry about it," Sirius snapped irritably. "I'll figure something out… or Moony will if he ever arrives: what the hell is so interesting he has to talk to Finel for ... what's the time?"
James consulted his watch. "Half four."
"You are joking, of course," Sirius said flatly.
"…No?" James guessed, confused.
"Bollocks!" Sirius leapt of the bed and tried rather futilely to straighten his tie. "We're late for detention."
"You mean I am," Peter commented, cautiously.
"What do you mean-" Sirius started angrily.
"Sirius Black has detention," Peter pointed out, colouring again. "I just thought it would be odd if Peter Pettigrew showed up for it."
There was a pause.
"You're right…" Sirius said slowly, sinking back down on his bed. "…And you're late; you'd better hurry up."
"Paddy-" James began.
"Go on James, you're going to get me" he pointed at Peter "into trouble."
James looked like he was going to say something else but Sirius shook his head. "I'll be fine. Go." As they reached the door Sirius added: "Anyway, it's Wormtail for the time being."
A
Remus returned twenty minutes after the others had vanished. He took one look at Sirius who was valiantly pretending to be Peter by lying, bored in the middle of his bed, dumped his books on the floor and sat down next to him. "What's different?" he asked, suspiciously.
Normally Sirius would have said: "Not allowed to tell you" either in a sulky or a sing-song voice, depending on how annoying he was feeling, however, the challenge of "no cheating" had been lain and he managed a rather weak: "Nothing."
Remus prodded him affectionately. "Don't lie. Something's wrong: I can tell and, even if I didn't have my wonderful friend intuition, you may have noticed that you're lying on Sirius' bed which is very odd to say the least." Sirius swore mentally and Remus added: "I'm surprised he hasn't killed you already actually: you're messing up all his carefully preserved creases and his special smell."
"He said it would be alright," Sirius lied, pathetically. "My bed is-"
What? What could, possibly, be wrong with his bed?
"Wet," he decided.
"Not like that," he added quickly, as Remus raised his eyebrows. "Sirius chucked a bowl of water over me this morning."
Remus frowned. "I must have missed that… still; it does sound like something he'd do." He smiled fondly. "Sirius Black: the most sensitive friend a guy could ask for."
Sirius smirked. "Damn right."
Remus rolled his eyes. "You should have just dumped water over him," he offered, grinning. "Preferably after he'd already done his hair." He raised his hands dramatically. "The ultimate revenge." The grin became more wolfish as, presumably, he imagined the scene; he laughed and moved back over to his desk. "How was potions then? The dastardly duo still sulking because someone was perceptive enough to split them up?"
Did Remus always talk about him like this when he wasn't there?
'He talks about you like this even when you are there' Sirius' brain prompted.
"Er, yer I think so." He sat up and looked across at his friend who was writing something he couldn't quite see. Remus nodded and made an unhelpful conversation-place-holder noise that sounded a bit like "mmm."
"Isabella seems to be warming to Sirius, again," Sirius continued, realising Remus was not going to hold this conversation together if he didn't.
"Is she indeed?" Remus asked, a smile hidden in his voice. "I thought she might."
"Didn't try and set him on fire at all today… I think he's relieved."
The quill stopped scratching and Remus remarked dryly: "Well he should be. Isabella Claudius is not someone he should underestimate: if he annoys her he could well find himself walking away with an arm missing or, knowing her, another part of his anatomy he's rather more fond of… As it is, the infuriating git will probably walk away with a date." He turned back to whatever it was he was doing and shook his head, smiling. "The worst part of it all is that I can't even hate him for it… which," he remarked thoughtfully, "would make life so much easier… Fancy a game after I've finished this and before the others get back?"
He paused again. "Actually: where are they?"
"Detention," Sirius said getting off the bed and walking towards Remus. "What are you doing anyway?"
"Writing this down before I for- Stop!"
Sirius stopped; Remus turned around to watch his progress.
"Walk back to the bed and walk towards me again."
Sirius laughed but did as he was told. "I swear you're getting weirder by the day," he said, grinning.
"Probably," Remus admitted, frowning slightly. "But that doesn't explain why you're walking like Sirius…. What the hell happened today, Padfoot?
A
It was a relief to tell Remus.
Remus didn't make light of the situation like James had (and like Sirius would have had it been anyone else,) didn't offer him exaggerated sympathy or start panicking; he simply listened as Sirius told him what had happened: carefully sliding over the bit where he'd challenged Snape to 'do his worst' and knowing Remus would guess that something of the sort had happened even though Sirius hadn't told him.
"Then we came up here looking for you. When you weren't there we decided without you that it would be better to try and find a solution on our own rather than tell Dumbledore," he finished.
Remus nodded: digesting the information. "And then, presumably, you and James made a bet about how long it would take for me to guess."
"No-" Sirius began; Remus raised his trademark eyebrow and Sirius decided it was safer to change his no to a: "Well… not a bet, exactly… more of a wager between friends."
"How did I do?"
"Nine minutes," Sirius told him, consulting the clock on the wall since his own, rather expensive watch, was now attached to Peter's wrist. "I won," he added, in case his friend was interested.
Remus smiled. "Only you two would bet on something like this." He tapped his quill thoughtfully against one of his cheeks. "Suggesting indifference, perhaps even… amusement at Severus' pathetic attempt to disrupt your lives," he said neutrally, his eyes finding Sirius'. "But, this is actually, almost, the worst thing he could have done to you, isn't it?"
Remus' eyes were brown. They were not the piercing amber or pale silver orbs promised by the limited number of books that claimed to be about werewolves in the Hogwarts library. They were just brown: willing to hold his gaze until walls of dignity and control collapsed.
"Merlin, you've got to help me, Moony," Sirius pleaded: abandoning dignity until a better time. "I've been Wormtail for about an hour and already I think I'm going insane."
"You were already insane," Remus pointed out mildly, drawing back into his chair now Sirius was no longer pretending to be alright.
"Well… more insane," Sirius agreed. He cast around desperately for something entice Remus with. "I'll… bake you a cake. A really big one."
Perhaps despite himself, Remus started laughing. "You can't cook," he explained in between giggles. "Besides, if I wanted cake, I could go and ask the house elves who would be overjoyed to furnish me with as much cake as I could ever manage to eat."
"Alright not cake," Sirius conceded. "A box of sugar quills?"
Remus continued laughing; Sirius scowled at him. "You know sometimes I wonder why I like you."
"Believe me: I wonder exactly the same thing all the time." Sirius threw a cushion at him. Remus caught it, twisting his fingers in the braiding absently. "But that doesn't mean l won't help you, you great oaf. That's what friends are for: to get their friends out of ridiculous situations." He threw the cushion back at Sirius. "Although I'll expect those sugar quills once you're you again."
"You have yourself a deal there, Mr Moony," Sirius declared, in relief. "A box of the finest sugar quills will be purchased as soon as Mr Padfoot and Mr Wormtail are back in their rightful places."
"How is the real Peter?" Remus asked more seriously.
Sirius considered this for a second. "Er… well he's Peter, isn't he?" ("How ironic," Remus murmured.) "I think he's kinda in shock… can't decide how to feel. He's petrified of pretending to be me in class-"
"Unsurprising, but I think I know how we can fix that."
"And kept wittering on about wish fulfilment or some other rubbish."
"Ah," Remus said. "Yes, I suppose he would."
"You mean you understand?"
Remus shrugged. "Well he has told me before but I would have guessed eventually." When Sirius still showed no signs of comprehension Remus sighed slightly and continued. "I'm going to hate myself for telling you this when I regain my senses but you are… were, I suppose, Sirius Black: the boy all the other boys want to be and all the girls want to be with." He ran his fingers through his hair: something he only did when he was embarrassed. "Peter, of course, finds it even harder not to be envious of you because you're so close to James: the person he admires most in the world." He smiled slightly and stopped playing with his hair. "And you know: it doesn't help that you're such a tosser either. If you were nicer people wouldn't hate you so much for being so bloody perfect."
"Please, Moony: don't sugar-coat the issue," Sirius deadpanned. "I want the truth: what do people think of me?"
Remus rolled his eyes. "You know you can be a git a lot of time; yes, you can be wonderful, charming and funny some of the time, but only with us and not always with Peter."
Sirius shrugged. "Why should I waste my time sucking up to people I don't like?"
"I have no idea," Remus said absently.
"And I am nice to Peter."
"Ok."
There was a pause whilst Sirius thought of something to say, eventually he landed on: "You want to be me?"
Remus smiled slightly. "No; I don't belong to that group…. James doesn't want to be you either but I suspect we're in the minority."
"Oh really?"Sirius smiled. "I'll have to investigate that further once you've figured out how to fix this."
"You could always do it yourself."
"I want you to help," Sirius insisted, with all the innocent charm of a three year old.
"I'm touched," Remus remarked dryly. "Now I really have to finish this; do you think you can manage not to destroy anything for about ten minutes?"
"For you: anything," Sirius promised, grinning.
Remus smiled back: "I'll remember that," and turned away to work on his essay.