A/N: This was supposed to be for RS Small Gifts close to ten years ago. Life unfortunately happened, I stopped writing, and the story was never finished. I don't remember who it was for, but if you requested Sirius as a portrait sometime in the last eight to ten years, this is for you.
"Oi, you! You did it, didn't you?'"
Remus' eyes are violently ripped away from the pages of his book and forced to look at Sirius, but it isn't actually Sirius. It's a portrait of Sirius – a very impish Sirius. Remus glances up and looks at the real Sirius, standing in front of him, portrait dangling from his hands, looking haughty and affronted.
"Where did that come from?" asks Remus, curiosity blossoming in his voice.
Sirius narrows his eyes. "From you! I know it wasn't Prongs. He was with me when we found them and he's not brilliant enough to pull something like this off, besides."
'Oi!' shouts James from behind Sirius, fist punching into Sirius' shoulder, causing the portrait to shake. Portrait Sirius grips his surroundings for dear life. "Take it back, you wanker!"
"I won't," snaps Sirius, tongue poking from between his lips in defiance. James' arm pulls back to hit Sirius again.
"Put your tongue back in your mouth, Black," says Lily as she strolls out of the common room. James' punch goes awry and lands in Sirius' side as his eyes train on Lily. Sirius releases an 'oof' of sound and folds in on himself, hands dropping the portrait. It falls forward and lands in Remus' lap, hard wooden frame smacking into Remus' forehead.
"Ow! Bloody –" Remus cuts himself off as a thought registers in his mind. He shoves an indignant Portrait Sirius to the side and grabs his two wrestling friends by the backs of their robes, pulling them apart. Sirius tries to lunge forward after James again, hands grabbing at the front of his friend, but Remus pulls him back and shakes him.
"Did you say them?" asks Remus, shouting slightly to be heard over James' threats. James quiets as Sirius relaxes and blinks at Remus in confusion.
"What?" says Sirius.
Remus feels confident enough to release him, but keeps a firm hold on James, who's still glaring at Sirius, his hunger for revenge clear in his hazel eyes. Remus shakes him once, too, just for good measure and a small bit of personal glee. James squeaks, startled.
"When you were talking about finding the portrait earlier, did you say 'them', meaning more than one?" asks Remus again, hoping Sirius had misspoken.
James finally turns his gaze away from Sirius, eyes lighting up in amusement. "Oh yeah," he says gleefully. "There's dozens of them all over the castle." He motions to the portrait leaning against the chair, the Sirius inside it lying on his back with his legs propped up on a table, watching them with a bored look in his eyes.
The real Sirius looks at him in disappointment. "It wasn't you, then?"
Remus shakes his head in denial as Peter climbs through the portrait hole. Sirius dives towards him.
"You!" he bellows. Peter squeals in surprise and backs into a corner, fear flooding his eyes as Sirius closes in on him. "It was you, wasn't it? Admit it and your death will be painless."
"W-what are you on about?" squeaks Peter. His eyes shift between Sirius and Remus, who's still holding James by the back of his robes. His eyes focus on the portrait behind Remus, the Sirius inside it grinning wolfishly at Peter. "I didn't have anything to do with that, but it's clever. Whoever did it even put one in the kitchens!" Sirius backs away and Peter releases a sigh of relief.
Sirius growls in frustration. "If it wasn't you three, then who was it?"
Remus is curious about that, too, but he has an idea. "Have you thought to ask yourself?"
Sirius looks at him as though he's gone mad. "What are you on about, Moony?"
Remus rolls his eyes and motions to the portrait behind him. Sirius' eyes go wide, and he lunges back to the other side of the room, shoving past Remus and grabbing the portrait up. Portrait Sirius rolls to his side at the movement and grunts as he pulls himself to his feet.
"Oi, you!" says Sirius, rattling the portrait. Portrait Sirius wobbles around unsteadily until he manages to grab the table he'd previously had his feet propped on.
"You knob, stop shaking me!" shouts Portrait Sirius.
"Who's calling who the knob?" snaps Sirius. "Tell me who made you or I'll throw your arse into the fire, you lousy clot."
"Now who's calling who the clot?" says Portrait Sirius snidely.
"It really is something," marvels Remus. "The likeness between them, I mean."
James hums. "Uncanny," he agrees. "I'd go so far as to say it's horrifying. Dozens of Siriuses! Can you imagine? Like mutant spawn." A shiver races up Remus' spine at the thought.
"Would you two shut it?" snaps Sirius. "I can hear everything you're saying and it's insulting." James snickers while Remus turns his head to hide a smile. Sirius turns back to the portrait. "Tell me who made you!"
Portrait Sirius eyes the fire with trepidation as he answers, "I can't. They charmed all of us. I can't even tell you if it's a bird or a bloke.'"
"I told you, didn't I?" whispers Peter, sidling up beside Remus and James. "Whoever it is, they're clever." Remus has to agree.
"Liar!" hisses Sirius in accusation.
"I am not! You take that back!" bellows Portrait Sirius in return, affronted. "We like mysteries, don't we? Go solve this one! It's not that difficult."
Sirius huffs in frustration as Portrait Sirius turns his back on everyone. The real Sirius glares at his friends suspiciously as he heaves the portrait sideways under his arm – Portrait Sirius falls to his side out of the frame with a yelp – smacks James across the side of the head with the palm of his hand, and makes his way up the dormitory stairs, grumbling to himself as heavy breathing emanates from the portrait as Portrait Sirius tries to heave himself back into the frame. Remus watches him go, eyes lingering long after Sirius has disappeared, lost in thought, James' complaints, petulant words, and struggles ignored.
The following day is interesting, to say the least. Sirius had been up half the night arguing with himself in whispers behind the drapes of his bed. As they journey from class to class, Portrait Sirius after Portrait Sirius shouts all manner of things at them and other students, most of which causes the real Sirius to tell the portraits to shut their gobs which starts more arguments. A few times throughout the day, the Marauders have to shove their way through crowds of people who have come to a standstill in the middle of the corridors, only to discover large gaggles of giggling girls gathered round a portrait, cheeks going red when they notice the real Sirius glaring at them.
Eventually, Sirius becomes agitated enough that he attempts to rip the portraits from the walls, only to find that they're all stuck and unmovable. When Sirius finally admits defeat after a half hour of pulling, he asks pathetically why he had been able to remove the first one he'd stumbled across.
Peter suggests that the clever person who was behind the whole thing had seen Sirius with the portrait or had noticed it missing and had anticipated Sirius doing the very thing he'd just attempted. Sirius turns to Remus and asks him if he can remove them. When Remus says no, Sirius pouts for the next hour until dinner.
When they arrive, Sirius ignores the food laid out upon the Gryffindor table and takes off towards the head table to speak with Dumbledore. The three Marauders watch him from their table, his arms flailing dramatically, Dumbledore listening intently and not looking frightened at all, something Remus thinks is an immense feat of self-control on the headmaster's part. When they hear Dumbledore chortle from the back of the Great Hall, they know Sirius has failed. The boy turns away and walks back to them, shoulders slumped in defeat. Remus gives him a gentle pat on the back when Sirius sits down beside him.
"This is so bloody unfair," mumbles Sirius at his empty plate, his chin resting pathetically in his hand.
"I dunno," says Peter around a mouthful of food as James scoops potatoes onto Sirius' plate, his way of comforting his friend. "As much trouble as we've caused round here, it's about time someone paid us back."
Sirius glowers at him. "That's just it, though, isn't it?" he grumbles irritably. "They're not doing this to us. I'm the only one suffering here. Why's that?"
The others shrug their shoulders at him. Remus hands him a roll in answer. Sirius accepts it, biting it in half angrily as he glares at the opposite wall. Dinner is a dark and ominous affair for Sirius that night, much to the not so silent amusement of his friends.
After dinner, Sirius takes to haranguing various other students in the corridor as the group makes their way back to Gryffindor Tower for the evening. Every time he catches someone's eyes glancing to his various portraits, he lunges at them, pinning them against the walls if possible.
"It was you, wasn't it?" bellows Sirius, towering over the trembling, wide eyed Hufflepuff first year. "You did this to me, admit it!"
"Plonker," mutters Portrait Sirius beside the pair, gazing disdainfully at Sirius. "He's a first year. How could he possibly have done this? We could have barely managed this."
Sirius turns to the portrait, eyes blazing in fury. The young boy tries to squirm out of Sirius' reach while the dark-haired wizard is distracted, but Sirius' hand shoots back out to grab the front of the boy's robes. The first year yelps in panic and cowers against the wall.
"Shut your gob," snaps Sirius, glaring at himself.
Portrait Sirius leans his hip against the ugly turquoise desk next to him, smirking. "Make me."
"You think I won't?" growls Sirius, stepping forward towards the portrait, dragging the pitiful first year with him. "I may not be able to get your sorry arse off the wall, but that doesn't mean a well-aimed incendio won't have the desired effect."
As Remus watches, he sees Portrait Sirius' eyes flick to him briefly, his smirk growing. Sirius' eyebrows raise as he notices the movement as well.
"I doubt very much that's going to happen," says Portrait Sirius smugly, crossing his arms over his chest. "You forget that I know all your secrets. I could easily let one slip."
Sirius' eyes narrow as his grip tightens around the first year's robe collar. The Hufflepuff bats at Sirius' hand uselessly.
"They're your secrets, too," mutters Sirius threateningly.
Portrait Sirius shrugs, scrubbing his nails over his powder blue jumper and examining them appreciatively. "Of course, of course, but what harm could they do me? I'm just a portrait, after all." He grins at Sirius wolfishly.
Sirius' grip continues to tighten around the small boy's robes, the first year struggling against the strangling collar now as Sirius glares at the portrait of himself. Portrait Sirius waggles his eyebrows at Sirius suggestively. Remus decides it's time to interject before Sirius gets himself thrown into Azkaban for murder of a bright blue Hufflepuff.
"That's enough, Pads," snaps Remus, stepping forward and placing his hand over Sirius', forcing him to release his grip. Portrait Sirius' eyes follow the movement. "Stop throttling innocent children and acting like a yob."
The first year takes his opportunity and quickly scampers away as Sirius turns his glare on Remus.
"Not on, Moony," mutters Sirius. "How else am I supposed to find out who did this?"
Remus rolls his eyes. "Not by attacking everyone who crosses your path, you daft mutt. Besides," he adds, glancing up at the portrait, the copy of Sirius watching them with a bored expression on his face, but his eyes curious, "would it be so bad if you never found out? They're sort of funny."
Sirius opens his mouth to protest, his eyebrows pulling together, but he stops himself as he considers Remus. His held tilts, his face shifting to inquisitive perplexity.
"You think they're funny?" he asks in surprise, something odd in his voice that Remus can't figure out.
James snorts in amusement behind them, coming forward and slinging his arm loosely around Sirius' shoulders.
"C'mon, mate," he says lightly, pulling his friend down the corridor, away from the still watching portrait. "Let's go back to the tower. I have a hankering for some chocolate, and I happen to know where our Moony has hidden some away."
"Oi!" shouts Remus from where he and Peter are still standing in front of the portrait. He grabs Peter's arm and pulls him along, following the two dark-headed boys. "Hooves off my chocolate, Prongs!"
James' and Sirius' laughter filter back down the corridor to Remus.
The boys enter the common room in a heap of arms and legs, James and Remus at the center. James had decided to race Remus back to the dorms to grab his hidden chocolate before Remus could stop him. Remus is not amused.
The other students around the room stare at the foursome as a snickering Sirius and Peter begin to untangle their squabbling friends. Sirius is finding good fun in the activity apparently, his barks of laughter travelling through the room every time Remus' elbows land painfully in James' sides or his foot kicks James' shin.
"Serves you right, Prongsie," quips Sirius as he removes James' head from Remus' armpit. "You know better than to threaten Moony's chocolate. He'll eat you for that."
Remus pauses in his struggles with James long enough to glower at Sirius. The amused boy only laughs louder when he sees the look.
"Oi, muppets! What's all this, then?" shouts a voice from the other side of the room.
The Marauders freeze simultaneously, because they all recognize the haughty, smooth tones as belonging to Sirius Black. Remus glances up at his friend to see that his eyes are wide, mouth pressed closed into a thin line. His grey eyes shift over to the fireplace, his mouth dropping open in bafflement.
Remus glances around James' head, craning to see where Sirius is looking. He feels his own jaw drop before he can stop it. Hanging above the fireplace, larger than all four boys combined, is a gigantic portrait of Sirius. The portrait's mouth is hanging open in a wicked grin. As Remus watches, dumbfounded, Portrait Sirius runs his tongue over the bottoms of his upper teeth as he eyes the Marauders roguishly.
As Sirius slowly moves closer to the portrait, Peter huffs.
"I suppose that solves one problem," he says matter-of-factly. He glances down to see James and Remus gazing at him questioningly. "Sirius won't be attacking anymore Hufflepuffs. Whoever is doing this is clearly Gryffindor."
"Too right you are, Pete!" says James jovially, pushing himself away from Remus and picking himself up off the floor. James offers his hand to Remus to help him up, and Remus accepts it willingly, all thoughts of protecting his chocolate stash and murdering James now gone.
Remus hears a growl of frustration and looks up to see that Sirius has reached the portrait. The boy is currently glaring daggers at the smirking painting, Portrait Sirius' gaudy Christmas jumper flashing colored lights blindingly and jingling its bells faintly as he moves around inside the frame. Remus' mind takes a moment to register this fashion extremely odd, as it's barely the beginning of November, but he shakes it off quickly as Sirius rounds to face the common room at large.
"All right, you lot," he says between clenched teeth. "Who's responsible for this? If you admit to it, I don't promise not to murder you with my bare hands, but I will promise not to throw you're twisted body into the lake with the Giant Squid."
"My, Black," says Lily from her seat at one of the tables near the window. She's grinning as though she's finding the whole affair rather splendid. "I never thought you for someone who couldn't handle a harmless prank."
"Shut it, Evans," snaps Sirius over his shoulder, not looking at the red head, "or I'll hex all your knickers to have Potter's face on like I did last week."
Lily rolls her eyes but says nothing else, her grin still firmly in place on her lips. Remus notices that James' face has turned incredibly red at the comment. Remus can only imagine what his bespectacled friend is thinking.
Sirius' furious glare around the common room is met with blank or amused faces. Sirius growls again.
"Fine," he says in a clipped tone, "don't tell me. I'll figure it out." With that, Sirius turns and lumbers up the dormitory steps with angry footfalls.
Next to Remus, James and Peter stare after their friend, chuckling to themselves. Only Remus seems able to see the growing storm that is Sirius' mood. Remus graces his friends with a disapproving frown before he follows Sirius up the stairs. He reaches the dormitory just as the door closes in his face. Remus slowly pushes it back open, poking his head inside carefully. He sees Sirius drop down heavily on the side of his bed, leaning forward and resting his head in his hands.
"Padfoot," says Remus, stepping fully into the room.
Sirius' head jerks up to stare at Remus, his dark eyebrows pulled close together in upset. He pulls himself further back on to his bed when he sees Remus.
"Shove off, Lupin!" he shouts, closing his bed curtains with a dramatic snap.
The smaller portrait of Sirius from the previous day, leaning between Remus' and Sirius' beds, snorts awake from his peaceful doze at the loud words. He glares at Remus reproachfully, but Remus ignores him, walking over to Sirius' bed and yanking the drapes back open. Sirius is laying on his bed, arms crossed over his chest, glowering darkly at his canopy. He scowls when he sees Remus staring at him.
"I said to leave off it, Remus," mutters Sirius, no longer looking at him.
Remus sighs. "Are they really so bad, Pads?" he asks, nudging the side of Sirius' bed with his knee, causing Sirius to jostle slightly on the mattress. "They're just portraits. Give it a few days and the professors will remove them. They're too disruptive to be allowed to stay up for too long."
Sirius looks at him now and frowns, his grey eyes dark. "You don't understand," he mumbles.
"Tell me, then," prompts Remus. "What's so awful about them?"
Sirius studies Remus for a long moment, chewing his bottom lip thoughtfully before his face hardens and he looks away glumly. "No," he grumbles.
Remus pinches his mouth into a thin, judgmental line. "You're a dolt," he states.
Sirius rolls on to his side, ignoring his friend.
"All right, fine," snaps Remus, closing Sirius' curtains again, probably with more force than necessary. "Stay up here and mope the rest of the night if that's what you want."
Remus makes his way back to the door, turning before leaving in just enough time to see Portrait Sirius casting an unreadable glance between Remus and Sirius' drapes, a frown pulling at his painted lips.
The following day isn't much improved, Sirius sulking through the castle as the portraits' words turn to taunts whenever he's nearby. Remus doesn't understand how any of the portraits could feel as bold as they do. They're all rather flamboyantly dressed in all manner of eye gouging outfits, and Remus is curious how someone dressed to resemble a bright pink flamingo could ever feel brave enough to ridicule a very ordinary Sirius Black.
Halfway through the day, having had enough, Sirius takes to casting silencing charms on the portraits, and his mood lightens somewhat when he sees that the charms work. Remus, ever the loyal friend, helps him. The charms don't last very long, unfortunately, but the Marauders typically have enough time to make themselves scarce before the portraits' voices return.
Sirius, in higher spirits as the day draws to a close, is actually looking forward to dinner that night. As the foursome enters the Great Hall that evening, Sirius' face falls when they see the large portrait of him hanging behind the Gryffindor table. Soon after taking their seats, the Marauders sullenly realize that their silencing charms don't work on this new portrait.
Sirius scowls down at his plate, mashing his roast potatoes with more force than necessary. As he moodily mixes his peas into the potatoes, the portrait begins shouting at him.
"Oi, Black! Made a move yet?" jeers Portrait Sirius, sitting upon his golden throne, his bright purple robes glittering in the candlelight as though they have diamonds attached. "What's taking you so long?"
Remus is surprised to see Sirius' face turn a deep red at the words. Sirius glances around the hall, his head dropping closer to his shoulders when he notices that almost everyone's eyes are focused on him. Before his friends can say anything, Sirius pushes himself away from the table and flees the hall as quickly as he can.
"Bugger," mutters Remus, turning to glare at the portrait. Portrait Sirius smirks at him.
By the time the Marauders make their way back to Gryffindor Tower, Sirius is already enclosed behind his bed curtains. James walks up and starts to pull them back, but stops, looking at Remus and Peter helplessly.
"I think this has gone too far. It was funny at first, but now…" whispers Peter, trailing off. "We have to figure out how to get those portraits down."
"Agreed," chorus James and Remus together.
Remus is woken later that night by the sounds of Sirius and his portrait bickering.
"Bugger off, I was sleeping, you twit," grumbles Portrait Sirius.
"You're a portrait," mutters Sirius. "You can sleep whenever you want. You're coming with me."
"Oi! Watch the shaking!" snaps Portrait Sirius.
They're voices become more muffled as Remus assumes Sirius has closed his bed curtains again. He lays there for a long time, listening to their whispered words and hissed arguments, all too low for Remus to make out any particulars.
When Sirius' voice raises slightly as an argument becomes more heated, Remus decides enough is enough. Climbing from his bed, Remus quietly pads across the cold dormitory floor to Sirius' bed.
"Pads," he says softly. The voices behind the drapes stop suddenly, and Remus takes the opportunity to poke his head in. "What are you doing?"
"Nothing," murmurs Sirius, glancing briefly at his portrait. "I just couldn't sleep. Go back to bed, Moony."
Remus looks at Portrait Sirius, who has his arms crossed firmly over his chest and is glaring balefully at Sirius. Remus huffs.
"Budge up," he mutters to Sirius, pushing the boy across the bed. Sirius balks, but Remus keeps pushing until he can sit down beside him, closing the curtains behind him.
"Remus," says Sirius, trying to protest, but Remus narrows his eyes at him, effectively silencing the other boy's words.
"No, I've had enough, Sirius," says Remus, looking at the dark-haired boy imploringly. "Whatever this secret is that the portraits keep badgering you about, you've just got to tell us. It's clearly affecting you in a very bad way. Just tell me what it is and this whole thing will stop."
"I can't," whispers Sirius, looking at Remus with a pained expression. Remus frowns at him. "I can't tell any of you. The others will hate me if they know." Sirius bows his head morosely. "You'll hate me, Moony."
"Sirius," says Remus, reaching out and touching Sirius' shoulder gently, the other boy flinching slightly at the pressure, "you and James and Pete accepted living with a werewolf for seven years. None of you hated me. You still don't. What could possibly be any worse than that?"
Sirius still doesn't look at him. Remus is getting frustrated. He is just opening his mouth to speak again when Portrait Sirius grunts, making the first sound since Remus had entered the curtains.
"Oh, for the sake of a grindylow, I can't stand this anymore," snaps Portrait Sirius, his exasperated gaze shifting to Remus. "The plonker's in love with you."
Sirius' head jerks up, glaring at the portrait briefly before he turns a fearful stare in Remus' direction.
"Moony, Remus – it's not – he's just – I –" stutters out Sirius, looking lost and panicked.
Remus raises his eyebrows at the other boy. "I know," he says. Sirius' eyes widen. "I've known since last year."
"What?" squeaks Sirius. "How?"
Remus shrugs. "You talk in your sleep sometimes."
Sirius gapes at him, his eyes shifting to the closed curtains. "Do they…?" he begins to ask, but trails off.
"They know," says Remus, nodding. "I threatened James to keep him quiet."
Sirius' brow furrows as he looks back at Remus. "What did you threaten him with?"
"I told him I'd let Lily in on the fact that James slept with a stuffed hippogriff until third year," says Remus, smirking at Sirius.
Sirius snorts in amusement, sucking his bottom lip in between his teeth, chewing on the flesh nervously. His eyes flick between Remus and the curtains rapidly, his face uncertain.
"You don't hate me?" he finally asks in a whisper.
Remus leans forward slightly, meeting Sirius' eyes and holding his gaze. "I don't hate you," he says emphatically. "I could never hate you, Pads." Sirius seems to accept his words easily enough.
"Why did you never say anything?" asks Sirius curiously, still chewing his bottom lip.
"I figured you needed time to work it all out," answers Remus, shrugging one shoulder. "Forcing the issue wouldn't have done you any favors."
"Yeah," mumbles Sirius, his eyes still on Remus, worry settling back into their grey depths. "What do we do now? Keep going forward and pretend none of this ever happened?"
Remus studies Sirius for a silent time, his gaze sweeping over the other boy's shadowed face. "I never said that," says Remus.
"Moony…" mutters Sirius, his face guarded and still worried.
"I said you needed time to work it out," continues Remus as though Sirius hadn't spoken. "Maybe I did, too."
Before Sirius has a chance to say anything else, Remus leans forward and presses their lips together. He hears Sirius inhale a sharp breath, and Remus smiles against the other boy's mouth. The kiss isn't awe-inspiring and there are no fireworks – Remus' mind is incredibly thankful for that; he doesn't think he could handle the cliché of it all. Sirius' lips are a little chapped and rough against Remus' and Remus doesn't really know what he's doing, but it feels right all the same, something fluttering happily in Remus' stomach.
"Oh," says Remus, pulling back from the kiss as something occurs to him. Sirius looks at him warily, but Remus continues, not noticing. "I know who did it."
Sirius' brow furrows in confusion. "Did what?" he asks. "Moony?"
Remus looks back up at Sirius and laughs. "I'll tell you later," he whispers, pressing himself back against Sirius. The other boy doesn't argue.
They're silent for a time, exploring one another's faces and mouths and necks. Just as Remus is beginning to accept what all this may possibly mean, Portrait Sirius speaks up from the other side of the bed.
"While this is all very nice and lovely and vomit-inducing, it is rather boring being a portrait," he says haughtily. "D'you think one of you could get someone to charm me my own Moony in here?"
Remus and Sirius find her sitting in a courtyard the following day, perching on a bench and reading her potions text. They seat themselves on a bench opposite her and stare until she looks up and notices their presences.
"What do you two want?" asks Lily, eyeing them warily.
"We know it was you, Lily," says Remus.
Lily looks at him in puzzlement. "I'm not sure what you're talking about, Remus," she replies innocently.
Remus smirks at her. Sirius is remaining stoically quiet, but the back of his hand is pressed firmly against Remus' thigh. Its pressure shoots a small thrill down Remus' spine.
"Do you want to know how I figured it out, Lily?" questions Remus, continuing without waiting for a response. "It was that comment Sirius made last night about charming your pants to have James' face on. The portraits seem like a likely payback for that."
Lily stares at him, her mouth opening as though she's going to protest, but she closes it quickly and huffs. "Fine," she says. "You're right, it was me." She looks at Sirius. "Happy?"
Sirius gapes at her. "Happy?" he barks. "No, I'm not happy. You've made my last few days a living hell."
Lily snorts derisively, standing and gathering her things. "You're always so dramatic, Black" she comments. "I think it was proper way of repaying you for the charm you put on my underthings."
"James' face didn't scream at you from your knickers," grouses Sirius, sulking.
Lily rolls her eyes but doesn't reply. She begins to walk away, but pauses, turning back to look at them. She glances between the two of them, noticing how closely together they're sitting, and Sirius hand pressed against the upper part of Remus' thigh. She chuckles as she turns to walk away, throwing a casual, "Happy birthday, Black! You're welcome," over her shoulder as she leaves.
Sirius and Remus gape at her retreating back.