Friday, March 10, 1978
"Why does that giant banner say 'Happy birthday, Wolfy McWolferson?" Remus sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes, wondering if the enormous flashing letters were the remnants of some strange dream. He blinked several times but the banner was still there, as obnoxious and unnecessary as ever. "I thought we agreed to keep my birthday celebration small? Nothing over-the-top? Does that conversation ring a bell?"
James leaned against his bedpost and gazed at the banner in apparent admiration. Remus wondered how he could stand to look at the bright, blinking words without squinting.
"This is small, compared to what we wanted to do," James said, shrugging. "Come on, have some cake."
"Is it too early for cake?" Remus asked, although he already knew what the answer would be.
Sirius launched himself onto Remus's bed, landing in a tangle of limbs. Beside him, Seven emerged from under the blankets and peered down at Sirius in bewilderment.
"Hi, Seven." Sirius pulled himself into a seated position, maneuvering himself around their feet so he sat somewhere in the middle. "To answer your question, Moony, it's too early for a lot of things, but cake isn't one of them."
Peter appeared beside Remus's bed carrying a cake. He wore a self-conscious smile as he set it down on the bedside table and summoned plates and forks.
"Happy birthday Ben Dover," Seven read, turning to Remus and giggling. "Love your friends Hugh G. Rection, Wilma Dickfit, Hugh Janus, Mike Oxlong, Enorma Stits, and Anita Shagg."
"Very mature," Remus said, although he was laughing too hard to get the words out.
"We knew you'd like that," James said, sitting down on the floor across from Remus's bed with Lily. "I'm Hugh G. Rection, by the way, and Evans is Wilma."
"Macdonald is Enorma Stits, obviously," Sirius said, smirking as Mary sat down beside Lily and rolled her eyes at him. "And I'm Mike Oxlong."
"So that makes you Hugh Janus?" Remus asked Peter. "Now, won't that get confusing if we have two Hughs?"
"No, because I have a middle initial," James said, rolling his eyes. "And Seven told me she wants to be called Anita from now on."
"I think we should call each other by these names all day," Remus said, accepting a piece of cake from Peter.
"Great idea, Ben." Sirius gave him a thumbs up from the end of the bed. "I was going to suggest that today, nobody's allowed to use any words that you hate."
"Which words do I hate, exactly?"
Sirius made an impatient hand gesture. "You know what I mean. Words that aren't necessarily proper words like, fucking…" He drummed his fingers against his knee and frowned. "Why can't I think of any?"
"Gropee," Peter supplied. "Sauceless, couchy, alcoholy, beachy, er…"
"Muggley," Lily added. "And coupley. Hang on, what was that other one?"
"Nibble," Sirius said, grinning. "He hated that one."
Seven tilted her head sideways to look at Remus. "But some of those are proper words. What's wrong with nibble?"
"Well, nothing, unless you insert it into every single sentence," Remus said, scowling at Sirius. "But I do like that idea."
By the time they made it down to breakfast, Remus had already told off Mary and Peter for using real names, and James was reprimanded for using the word 'shouty.' Remus smiled to himself, glad for the silly distractions from the worrisome situation outside of Hogwarts. When the owls swooped in to deliver the mail and his Daily Prophet arrived on top of the birthday card from his parents, Remus tucked it between the jug of pumpkin juice and a jar of jam without even glancing at the front page. Not today, he thought, taking a sip of tea and savoring the warming sensation that spread through his chest.
"Ugh, did you see this, Remus?" Lily asked, pointing down at her own copy of the newspaper.
"That's Ben Dover to you," Sirius said, pointing at Lily and flashing her a taunting smile. "And no bad news today. It's his birthday, and if he's boycotting the daily dose of depression, then we all are." He caught James's eye and nodded at the newspaper. "Give her a whack on the head with that, will you, Hugh Janus?"
James shook his head in amusement. "I'm Hugh G. Rection, you arse. You call yourself my best mate and you don't even know my name? And I'm not hitting her. I don't want to be murdered, thanks very much."
Sirius sighed and pointed his wand at the newspaper. It flew out of her hand and gave her several pokes in the head before it soared over the table to land on top of Sirius's empty breakfast plate.
Remus smiled with relief. "Thanks. It's nice to just have a silly, relaxed sort of morning, don't you think?"
"It is sort of nice," Lily said. She kept glancing down at the empty space in front of her where the newspaper normally sat, unaccustomed to eating breakfast without reading about Harold Minchum's latest infuriating behavior.
"Why do you think I read bloody Witch Weekly?" Mary said, rolling her eyes. "It's not for the fucking hair tips." She gestured at her unruly curls. "Obviously they aren't worth shit. It's so I can avoid the bad news."
"Maybe I should give Witch Weekly another chance," Remus said, grinning at her. "I did enjoy that quiz that gave your ultimate love match based on your wand core or whatever."
When they settled into their seats in Charms, James leaned close to Sirius and muttered something.
"What're you up to?" Remus asked, glancing around for dozens of balloons or confetti or a giant HAPPY BIRTHDAY WOLFY MCWOLFERSON sign.
"Nothing bad," James said. "We've got some fun activities planned for class, that's all."
"First, we're going to be doing some fairly competitive parchment flicking." Sirius produced several pieces of parchment folded into triangles and passed them around.
"If you're expecting me to try to get this into Mary's cleavage, I'm not bloody doing it," Remus said, flashing Mary an apologetic smile.
"Don't be a pig, of course we wouldn't expect you to do that," Sirius said, widening his eyes in feigned shock.
"We've constructed miniature Quidditch hoops. There's one by the window there, one by Bertram Aubrey's seat, and one by the rubbish bin near Flitwick's desk," James said, pointing to each location in turn. "You can also earn points for landing one in someone's bag, in someone's hair, or, as you predicted, down someone's shirt."
"Do we still get points if they notice?" Remus asked, grinning as he imagined Flitwick going on with his lesson, blissfully unaware of the bit of parchment sticking out of his shock of white hair.
Sirius tapped his fingers against the desk, then looked at James. "I think so, don't you? But it should be double points if they don't notice."
"Flitwick's going to hate us," Mary said, shaking her head and toying with her parchment triangle.
"Nah, this is better than the balloons we tied to Moony's bag two years ago," Peter said. He practiced flicking his parchment and had to stretch out his foot to retrieve it. "The ones that sang if you tried to pop them. Flitwick only got through half his lesson because had to keep stopping to try to silence them."
Lily aimed her parchment at James's head. "Ugh, you lot are obnoxious," she said, punching her fist into the air when the parchment met its mark.
"Rubbish, we're lovely." James picked up the parchment that had bounced off his head and flicked it back at her. "Otherwise, why would you talk to us?"
"Yes, how dare you insult us that way, Wilma," Sirius said, positioning his parchment to land it down Mary's shirt. "Now be quiet and show some respect. Flitwick's starting the lesson."
Fifteen minutes into the lesson, Remus had copied almost none of his notes, and Flitwick looked distinctly confused. He had already reprimanded Peter twice for swearing when his parchment triangle ricocheted off the miniature Quidditch hoop. Soon after, James jumped out of his seat and cheered when his paper triangle dropped neatly into Stacy Tremblay's bag. Flitwick stopped speaking mid-sentence to frown at him and didn't resume his lecture until Donald Fawcett prompted, "You were describing the incantation for the counter-charm, professor." Remus thought they were done for when Flitwick spotted Mary shaking out her shirt until Sirius's parchment triangle tumbled out onto the floor, but the hilarity didn't peak until the end of class.
"Someone's got to get it in Flitwick's hair," Sirius whispered. "I think I'm sitting in the wrong spot to get the angle right. Evans, you've got to do it."
"No chance," Lily hissed back. "Peter, you might be able to get it."
"Nah, his aim's not good enough," Sirius said, shaking his head. "Prongs?"
"He'll notice if I do it," James said, giving a tiny shake of his head. "We're all using the wrong names, by the way."
Sighing, Remus held his parchment triangle between his thumb and forefinger, then took aim and gave it a flick. The parchment flew through the air, tumbling over and over until it descended right onto Flitwick's head, blending in with his hair. Remus held his breath, heart pounding, as Flitwick reached a hand up and felt around the top of his head. By some miracle his fingers skipped over the parchment, and he shrugged before returning to his explanation of their homework assignment.
"Nice work," James mouthed, giving Remus a thumbs up.
"That's better than the one Lily, I mean, er, Wilma, got down Bertram Aubrey's buttcrack," Peter added.
Lily pressed her hands over her mouth to suppress a giggle. "That was an accident."
Remus smiled as he copied down the homework, surprised at how light and unburdened he was after the Prophet-free breakfast and silly diversions during Charms. For the past hour, he had almost forgotten there was anything to worry about besides Flitwick noticing the bit of parchment sticking out of his hair.
"This has been the best Charms class I've ever had," Remus said, packing up his things and getting to his feet. "What do you have planned next? I assume the rest of you will want to redeem yourselves after I proved to be the superior parchment flicker."
Sirius beckoned for everyone to stop just outside Professor McGonagall's classroom.
"Minnie can't see these," he muttered, handing around what looked like hand-made bingo cards. "We'll have to be a bit sneakier than we were in Flitwick's class, but it'll be worth it."
"Is this bingo?" Lily asked, peering down at her parchment and giggling. "McGonagall bingo?"
Sirius beamed and nodded. "Sure is. I've been dying to do this since last week."
Remus burst into laughter as he read the descriptions scrawled into each box: Purses lips. Glares at someone until they stop talking. Points out a dress code violation. Exasperated sigh. "According to A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration…" "That was a rhetorical question, Mr. Black/Potter." A small photograph of McGonagall frowned out at him from the center of the bingo card.
"I think we should also say meow as much as possible," James said, shifting aside so Donald Fawcett could get by. "If McGonagall asks a question, we have to use meow in our response."
Mary shook her head. "She's going to change her mind and give us all detention after all."
"Have a little faith," James said. "I bet we can get ten meows without her saying a word."
He strode into class and took a seat before any of them could argue, and the rest of them followed, concealing their bingo cards behind textbooks or underneath their notes. Before class even began, McGonagall shot Mary a sharp look and nodded at her shirt. Mary grinned sheepishly and hastened to button the top two buttons.
"Is that considered pursing her lips or pointing out a dress code violation, do you think?" Peter whispered, frowning down at his card. "Technically she didn't say anything, but…"
"Both," Sirius said, glancing sideways at Mary and giving her a thumbs up. "Nice work, Enorma Stits."
"Sod you," she muttered, suppressing a giggle.
McGonagall cleared her throat and crossed her arms over her chest, waiting to resume her instructions until Sirius and Mary fell silent.
James grinned and pointed to a square on his card. "Glares at someone until they stop talking," he mouthed.
The class proceeded without incident for the next few minutes. Then McGonagall instructed them to open their textbooks to discuss the homework, and Sirius stopped tipping backward in his chair and looked around at them all in anticipation.
"Now, according to A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration…" McGonagall began.
The six of them grinned and filled in the corresponding squares on their cards.
"I'm almost at bingo," Sirius whispered.
McGonagall heaved a sigh. "Mr. Black, why is being quiet during instruction such a difficult concept for you to grasp?"
"Well, I suppose it's because I have so many clever and illuminating insights to share that it's impossible to hold them in, even right meow when you're teaching a lesson," he replied, grinning at her while he filled in one of his squares. "Bingo," he added in an undertone.
"Mr. Black, that was a rhetorical question."
"Ooh, that's bingo for me as well," Lily whispered.
"If you interrupt again I'm going to ask you to move your seat," McGonagall continued, "and don't give me that rubbish about how you learn better when you're sitting next to Mr. Potter."
"Meow that's not rubbish, that's true," James said, nudging Sirius and grinning.
"Be quiet, Potter." She shook her head and returned to writing notes on the blackboard, muttering under her breath.
Mary turned around and held up two fingers.
"We'll get to ten. Just wait," he muttered, gesturing for her to face front again.
As class drew to an end, Remus had counted nine meows. After the first couple, McGonagall began to look at them strangely, and by number eight she wore a puzzled frown. When James answered a question by referring to the "Summeowning Charm," McGonagall tilted her head sideways and stared at him.
"Are you saying 'meow,' Mr. Potter?"
Remus bit his lip to keep from laughing while James gazed back at her in mild astonishment.
"Meow? Why would I be saying meow?"
"I have no idea, but the lack of a logical explanation is hardly a deterrent for you boys." She continued to watch him with her arms crossed, an expectant look on her face.
"Well, I assure you, Professor, none of us have been saying meow."
As McGonagall returned to the lesson, James raised his eyebrows at the others, but Remus shook his head.
"Doesn't count," he mouthed, holding up a finger. "One more."
James sighed and copied down the homework as he waited for another opportunity, but McGonagall asked no more questions. As they packed up their things and headed for the door, Mary flashed James a taunting smile.
"Told you it wasn't possible."
"Nah, we can still manage it," Sirius said, hesitating just outside the doorway. "Pete, you haven't said a single meow. This last one's for you."
Peter's eyes widened. "What? How am I supposed to–"
"Do it," Sirius insisted. "The fate of Moony's birthday depends on you."
"You mean Ben Dover," James corrected.
"Yes, I'm sorry. The fate of Ben Dover's birthday depends on you."
"You don't have to," Remus said as he slung his bag over his shoulder. "One meow will not make or break my birthday."
"Typical Ben," Sirius said, shaking his head. "He's just being nice. You've got to do this, Pete."
Peter sighed and shuffled over to McGonagall. "Excuse me, Professor?"
She looked up from the pile of homework she was examining and raised her eyebrows. "What is it, Mr. Pettigrew?"
He stood there gaping at her for so long that she peered around him to see what the rest of them were up to. Probably thinks Peter's the diversion so we can pull some prank, Remus mused, smiling to himself. She's been around us too long.
"Yes?" McGonagall said, a touch of impatience in her tone. Outside the door, the next class had begun to queue, peeking in and casting curious glances at Peter.
"Meow," he blurted, then turned and hurried out of the room. Remus was laughing so hard, he had to grab James's arm to stay on his feet.
"That was the most embarrassing thing I've ever done in my life," Peter said once they were a sufficient distance down the corridor.
"No it's not," Sirius said, slinging an arm around Mary's shoulders. "You've shagged Bertha Jorkins, Pete. And you wear bloody unicorn pajamas about once a week. So I think you'll survive this minor embarrassing event. And look how happy you made Ben Dover, the birthday boy."
They watched as Remus wiped away tears of mirth.
"Now come on," he said, draping his other arm around Remus's shoulders. "During lunch we'll tell you the plan for Defense. Spoiler alert: Macyntire isn't going to be amused."
The activities for Charms and Transfiguration had been designed to cause minimal class disruption, but the three boys saw no reason to extend the same courtesy to Professor Macyntire.
"We shouldn't mess with him just for the sake of my birthday," Remus protested as they filed into class.
"It's not just for the sake of your birthday," James said before pointing his wand at the blackboard and muttering an incantation under his breath.
"It's because Macyntire is an insufferable git," Sirius added. "Your birthday is just an excuse for us to mess with him." He twitched his wand under the table and Macyntire's desk shifted a few inches to the right. "I don't want to hear any of you laughing, either. Straightfaced the whole time or it'll ruin it, alright?"
"Why're you looking at me?" Mary asked.
"Because you have the hardest time keeping it together. Remember when I passed you that drawing of Flitwick in a bikini and you fell out of your chair laughing?"
"Ooh, that was some of my best artwork," James said, his face lighting up at the memory. "I think falling out of your chair was a reasonable response because that drawing was hilarious. But so try to refrain today, otherwise this won't be nearly as fun."
Macyntire called for the class's attention and began his lecture. As he spoke, he waved his wand to make his notes appear on the blackboard. Everything seemed to be business as usual until he mentioned the wand movement for a particular defensive spell. The notes on the board should have said wiggly wand movement, but instead they said wiggly penis movement.
"Professor?" Stacy Tremblay raised her hand as her shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. "Is that what the notes are meant to say?"
Macyntire turned around to check the board, and his face flushed with anger when he spotted the substitution.
"Is this someone's idea of a joke?" he demanded. "You're all going to sit the N.E.W.T.s in a few months, and this is what you find amusing?" He stabbed his wand in the direction of the blackboard and the word disappeared, but the same word formed again in its place.
"None of us are laughing, Professor Macyntire," Lily said, her eyes wide and earnest. "This seems like the sort of nonsense Peeves might pull."
"Hmmph." Macyntire scowled at the board and erased the entire phrase, then rewrote it by hand. The chalk screeched as he scrawled wiggly penis movement.
"You've got to be kidding," he muttered, erasing penis with the back of his hand and mouthing the letters as he wrote W-A-N-D, the chalk scraping against the board with each stroke of his hand. He stood back, satisfied with his work, then scowled again when the word blurred before their eyes and reformed to spell out PENIS again, this time in blocky, capital letters.
"I don't like the word wiggly," Remus whispered, wrinkling his nose.
Sirius rolled his eyes. "Course you don't."
"Wiggly penis movement is an excellent phrase, though," James said, grinning.
Remus shook his head. "I strongly disagree."
"Shut up," Mary said, pressing her hands against her mouth. "He's going to shout at you, and I'm going to laugh."
"You might try Finite Incantatem," Bertram Aubrey suggested, flashing the professor a pompous, overly-helpful smile. "Looks like a pretty standard word-substitution spell to me."
"Yes, thank you, I realize that," Macyntire snapped, jabbing his wand at the blackboard and speaking the incantation before once again erasing the offending word. This time the letters did not reform, and Macyntire wiped his chalk-covered hands on his robes and resumed his lecture.
"Git," Sirius said, concealing his wand behind his textbook as he pointed it at Macyntire's desk and shifted it another few inches to the right. The motion disturbed a stack of papers on the desk, and the fluttering sound attracted Macyntire's attention. He turned and frowned at the desk, his eyes scanning the distance between the desk and the edge of the room. While his attention was diverted by the desk, James pointed his wand at the blackboard and repeated what Aubrey had identified as a pretty standard word-substitution spell.
"Again?" Remus mouthed.
James held up a finger. "Wait and see."
Deciding everything was in order with the desk after all, Macyntire heaved an irritated sigh and resumed his lecture, moving on to describing the proper way to grip one's wand. This time when the phrase Grip your wiggly penis firmly appeared on the board, several people let out peals of laughter.
"Who is doing this?" Macyntire demanded, hurrying to erase the phrase.
Remus covered his face with his hand. "Why does it say wiggly again?"
"I thought you said you liked wiggly," James said, frowning.
Remus heaved an exasperated sigh. "That was definitely you."
Lily turned around and nodded at the desk two rows in front of him. "Look at Bertram Aubrey. He's laughing so hard he's crying."
"Oi, get ahold of yourself, Bertie Botts!" James called with a sanctimonious little shake of his head. "We're about to take the N.E.W.T.s and you can't stop laughing about a simple word for the male genitalia? Just disgraceful."
"Yes, I fail to see what's so funny about a penis, even a wiggly one," Sirius said, biting his lip to keep from laughing. "Although, to be fair, it's not exactly relevant to today's lesson, because wiggling your knob at an Inferi isn't a great way to defend yourself."
"That's enough!" Macyntire roared, raising his voice to be heard over Stacy Tremblay's high-pitched giggles. "Finite Incantatem! If I catch whoever's doing this, I'll march you straight up to see Dumbledore." His eyes narrowed in suspicion as his gaze lingered on James and Sirius.
"We'll keep an eye out for you, Professor," Sirius said, his gaze sweeping over his classmates. "If there's even a hint that one of these hooligans is going to disrupt class again, we'll let you know straight away."
"You know who's been awfully silent through all of this?" James said, running a hand through his hair.
"For fuck's sake, Prongs," Remus muttered.
James ignored him. "Sevalevadingdong." He gestured at the desk in the front row where Snape sat. "You might want to do a quick Reverse Spell on his wand, Professor."
"You idiot, it's obviously you that's doing it!" Snape growled, his lip curling.
James held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I'm just trying to learn how to fend off an Inferi, Sevalicious."
"I said, that's enough!" Macyntire's face was bright red as he glared around at the class, his hands clenched by his side. "Now, we're finished with notes for the day, and we're going to move onto practicing the spell…"
While Macyntire circulated around the class, correcting students' wand movement and pronunciation, James continued to move his desk a bit at a time, so that by the end of class it was almost touching the edge of the room. Macyntire gazed at it in astonishment, then shook his head and strode out of the classroom before the students had even finished packing up. As he rushed past, Remus thought he heard him mutter, "–need a bloody drink."
"I almost feel bad," he remarked as they set off down the corridor. Behind them, he heard Stacy Tremblay ask Donald Fawcett about his wiggly penis before dissolving into helpless giggles.
"I don't," Sirius said. A cruel grin spread across his face. "Fucking arsehole."
"I think I'm with Remus," Lily said, taking James's hand. "I'd prefer never to hear the word wiggly again, if at all possible."
"We'll add that to the rules of our drinking game tonight," Remus said. "And one of you is going to have to tell Seven this story, because I'm not going to be able to get through it without laughing."
After dinner they retreated to the dormitory and sat on the braided rug as James dealt out the Exploding Snap cards. Mary put on some music, and the room felt cozy even without the warmth of the common room fire. Remus leaned back against Sirius's bed and smiled as Seven moved to sit beside him, her leg brushing against his. He had only had a few sips of firewhisky, but he was already relaxed and content as the liquor loosened his limbs.
"Okay, here are the rules, as per Moony's request," Sirius said, passing a drink to Mary before picking up his cards.
"You mean per Ben Dover's request," she corrected, stealing a pillow from Sirius's bed and placing it underneath her.
"Yes, I do, and I don't recall giving you permission to put your arse all over my pillow, but I suppose I'll let it slide for now." He paused to take a sip of his drink, then continued, "If you refer to anyone by their real name rather than their fake name, you drink. If you use a word that Moony, er, sorry, Ben Dover, hates, you drink."
"Is that at my discretion?" Remus asked, raising his eyebrows.
Sirius grinned. "Yes, but don't abuse it. Finally, before you drink, you have to say the word wiggly."
Remus groaned. "Why?"
"Because it's your birthday, and you hate that word, and I enjoy torturing you." He reached across Mary to clink his glass against Remus's. "Happy birthday, you wiggly git. Now, who knows where my cowboy is, because if you're not wearing a funny hat, is it even really your birthday?"
Hours later Lily, Mary, and Seven stumbled off to the bathroom together ("Bet they're going to talk about what you look like naked, Moony," Sirius had said with a smirk), and James and Sirius took the Invisibility Cloak to go steal some snacks from the kitchens. Remus looked at Peter and grinned, then finished his drink and lay back on the rug.
"Just us again, as usual," he said. He gazed up at the ceiling, watching one of James's forgotten Snitches flutter through the air toward the window.
"Just us again," Peter agreed. He stretched out on the rug next to Remus and picked up the abandoned cowboy hat, twirling it between his fingers. "Although it hasn't been just us that much lately."
"No, I suppose it hasn't."
Remus turned to look at Peter. He had changed into his dragon-print pajamas, and his smile had a relaxed, alcohol-blurred quality to it. The sight made Remus ache with unexplained sadness.
"I'm sorry," he said, touching Peter's shoulder.
Peter glanced at Remus and sighed. "It's okay."
His eyes slid back to the ceiling, following the Snitch's slow journey from the window to the poster by James's bed. The music faded and left a sleepy silence in its wake. Down in the common room, snatches of laughter drifted through the dormitory door, and Remus realized the others had forgotten to close it.
"You know, you could—" Remus began.
"Don't."
"I'm just saying."
Peter glanced at Remus and grinned. "And I'm just saying, don't. It's your birthday. You don't have to waste it feeding me a load of rubbish about how there's someone out there for me."
Remus didn't miss the note of loneliness hidden under the cheerful tone, but he didn't press the issue. He understood how Peter felt, because if not for Seven's persistence and the encouraging effect of firewhisky, he would still be in the same position.
"Alright," he said, chuckling. "Have it your way. There's nobody out there for you besides your hand."
Peter laughed, and then a silence stretched out between them. There was another peal of laughter from the common room, and Remus felt the sadness creeping back in.
"I'm sure it'll be the two of us again sooner rather than later," Remus said, lowering his voice in case the girls returned. "Me and Seven won't… I mean, she has another year here, and then she could go play Quidditch professionally if she wants to. Even if she doesn't, she'll have too much to focus on to bother with me and wherever the fuck I end up after we leave here."
"Moony…" Peter rolled onto his side to look at Remus with wide, earnest eyes. "Don't say that. She really likes you."
He nodded. "For now. But I just can't see it lasting for longer than this year, or maybe for the summer. It's not like Prongs and Lily, or Padfoot and Mary. It's just not the same for me. She should be with someone different. Someone less…" He made a vague hand gesture that encompassed everything he couldn't put into words, but Peter nodded as though he understood.
"But she doesn't want someone different, does she? She wants you."
Remus nodded again. "For now," he repeated. He looked up at the ceiling again, catching a glimpse of the Snitch before it darted out of sight behind Sirius's bedpost. He exhaled and forced back the sadness, hitching a smile onto his face. "It's okay. I'll enjoy it, for now."
Peter watched him for a moment, an unfathomable expression on his face. Then he grinned and nudged Remus's shoulder.
"Cheer up," he said, struggling into a seated position and offering Remus a hand up."It's your birthday, and Seven's in the bathroom telling the girls what you look like naked."
Remus rolled his eyes but let Peter hoist him upright. "I fucking hope she's not."
Peter shrugged. "I'd be pleased if someone was talking about what I look like naked, but suit yourself. I'm sure they're talking about Quidditch, or the weather, or my pajamas."
Remus heard footsteps and the sound of female laughter, and he exchanged looks with Peter.
"Should we ask them what they talked about?" Peter asked, raising his eyebrows.
Remus shook his head. "Leave it a mystery."
"Fair enough," Peter said, placing the cowboy hat on Remus's head. "Happy birthday, Moony."
"Thanks." He grinned as Seven sat down next to him and reached over to touch the brim of the cowboy hat.
"You look so cute in this silly hat." Little wisps of hair had pulled free from her braid, framing her face as she smiled and leaned closer.
"Don't let Padfoot hear you call this hat silly," he said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
She kissed him, her hand resting lightly on his chest as her lips pressed against his. For a moment all of his worries and doubts from earlier rushed back to him, swirling around his head until they blocked everything else out. Then he reached for her hand, lacing his fingers through hers, and forced the worries to the back of his mind. He breathed in the scent of her hair and savored the taste of her mouth, and resolved to enjoy it, for now.