1976

Sirius, Peter, and Remus were all lazing about on the couches in the Gryffindor common room—a usual sight on any given afternoon after classes were over. Their fifth year, the Marauders all had this time free, save James, who had decided to take Muggle Studies to impress Lily Evans. He thought that by learning about 'her ancestors,' a he so politely put it, he could 'learn the way to her heart.' None of the other Marauders bothered to tell him how ridiculous this sounded—anything Lily Evans related common sense was no use to James. For the time being, Peter was perched over his transfiguration essay, trying to read through Remus' comments on it with some difficulty. Remus read, and Sirius was experimenting with a dungbomb, eying its rounded form very carefully.

"Careful, Padfoot," Remus chided from behind the book he was reading. "That thing explodes and you'll be cleaning the common room—again."

"Oh, Moony," Sirius sighed. "You think I don't know how to operate these? After all these years?"

"Well," Remus began, "You did accidentally set one off last week—"

"—and the week before!" Peter added.

"—and likely the week before that," Remus teased. "So, you'll excuse me for not having the greatest of faith in your abilities to not make a mess."

The shaggy-haired boy scoffed, continuing to play with the dungbomb. "I'm trying to unlock its secrets is all: Oh Mr. Dungbomb," he gushed, "Teach me your ways. How may I unlock your keen ability to cause so much mayhem in a tiny package?"

Remus rolled his eyes and resumed reading his book—a History of Centaurs in Ireland, though he was soon to be re-interrupted.

"Remus?" Asked Peter, eyes squinting at the essay beneath him. "What did you mean when you said 'incorrect, according to…Gramp's Law?'"

Sirius unsuccessfully stifled a laugh, and Remus shot the boy a look.

"Sirius," the young werewolf began, "It's not Peter's fault…my handwriting is a bit messy. That should say Gamp's Law—you know, of Elemental Transfiguration? You wrote something about conjuring food—"

"A dream of his," Sirius quipped.

"—and that's firmly against the law," Remus continued, still glaring at Sirius. Peter sighed.

"Well, that means the whole thing is wrong, isn't it?" Peter asked sadly. "After all, I wrote my thesis on—"

"REMUS JOHN LUPIN!"

The young werewolf turned his attention away from Peter and towards James, who had burst through the door and into the common room. The boy looked disheveled—more so than usual, and his hair seemed to by flying everywhere as if he had just gotten off from his broom.

"You called, Prongs?" Remus grinned, setting down his book. James rolled his eyes.

"Called…How Victorian. Yes of course I called, Moony, because you," he scolded, "Have failed to tell us that you have finally done it."

Remus, for a brief moment, had absolutely no idea what James was talking about. Suddenly, it came to his attention that his good friend might be referring to a certain activity from the week prior.

"Oh?" He asked, feigning surprise. It wasn't enough to fool James, who kept his narrowed eyes on Remus.

"Oi, Moony," ventured Sirius, "What have you done this time? Trampled through good 'ol Minnie's vegetable garden on a midnight romp?" He teased. The sandy-haired boy rolled his eyes.

"You know very well, Pads, that Professor McGonagall does not have a vegetable garden, and even if she didn't and I ran through it on a so-called 'midnight romp,' it's likely because I was trying to chase your greasy hide out of it," Remus quipped. While Sirius mock-pouted, James cleared his throat.

"Excuse me!" He declared, waving his hands about as he dropped his book bag to the floor. "Doesn't anyone want to know what Moony actually did?"

"I would," Peter squeaked and James smiled.

"Well," he began, "At least Wormtail wants to know."

"I'd also like to know!" Sirius exclaimed, raising his hand in assent. "Do tell, Prongs," he begged. Remus simply rolled his eyes, and James cleared his throat ceremoniously:

"Oh dear Moony has shagged his first lovely lady—and I had to hear it through Evans, of all people!"

"E-Evans?" Peter stuttered. "But Moony, that's—"

"NOT EVANS!" James yelped. "Marlene—I mean, he had his hands all over her at his party—"

"Did not," Remus retorted, growing a bit red in the face.

"Did too," James sustained. "And so, Moony, I have to ask: is it true? Have you truly grown into your manhood?"

"Oh, please Moony," Sirius begged, "Please tell me it's true," he added, grabbing Remus' hand to give it a squeeze. "I promise to never again accidentally explode a dungbomb again if you say yes."

Remus, with a smile rapidly growing over his face, responded simply: "Yes."

Sirius cheered, leaping off the couch.

"HE'S DONE IT!" He shouted, likely loudly enough for anyone from any dormitory to hear. "Oh, sweet, sweet Merlin's Beard, he's done it at last!"

Remus chortled. "I suppose I have," he mused. "It was quite nice, actually—I think I'd like to do it again."

James rolled his eyes so strongly that they looked like they would pop out of his head.

"Well of course you do," he reasoned. "You're 16 and a man. I'd be shocked if you didn't," he insisted, grinning. "We're very proud of you mate—even if we did have to hear through Evans."

"Good job, Remus," Peter smiled, leaving his essay on the ground.

"Thank you, Peter," Remus beamed.

"So," Sirius inquired, "What is everything you dreamed of? Tell us all about it, Moony, we long to—"

"Sirius," Remus began, a look of fear plastered on his face, "Look where you're stepping—"

BOOM!

Sirius, in his excitement, had stepped on the dungbomb he had been playing with earlier. In his excitement over Moony's 'transition to adulthood,' the object of his desires had rolled onto the ground.

"I'll get a mop."