Next to a towering stack of books, I lie on my four-poster bed, scanning through a chapter on Levina Monkstanley. It is early Saturday afternoon and there are only three of us in the dorm. Sirius, having been awake at four in the morning to sneak dungbombs into the Slytherin dungeons, is still fast asleep and snoring underneath his heavy sheets. Peter, on the other hand, is crawling back and forth, his pudgy hands feeling around the floor.

"Hey, Remus, have you seen my wand around?"

I push my hair out of my eyes and look up from my book. "Oh, okay, it's somewhere around James' bed, Peter," I tell him as I shut my book and walk over to the pile of discarded Quidditch robes next to his bed. Crouching down, I reach under them and retrieve Peter's wand. I stand back up and toss it to him. "James was playing with it again last night, I think," I say, flopping myself down my bed again, as he catches it.

"Thanks," he mutters, as he makes his way towards the door. He reaches for the doorknob, but then turns around with a panicked expression.

I chuckle at the all too familiar look on his face. "What now, Wormtail?"

"I promised I would wake Sirius up by now... H-he told me that I –"

I cut him off before he can continue blubbering, "I'll wake him up, Peter, it's alright."

A wave of relief washes over his tensed up face as he leaves the room.

Sitting up, I grab one of the pillows behind me and throw it at Sirius. He shifts a little, but doesn't open his eyes and just mumbles to himself, still half asleep.

"Oi! Padfoot!" I shout at him.

He groans and takes the pillow I threw at him to cover his face. I roll my eyes and stride to his bed, which is facing Peter's. He's still tossing and turning, muttering as he drifts in and out of consciousness.

I shake him awake and pull the covers away from him, which is a bad move.

He only has a pair of slacks on, everything else completely bare. I stand there, frozen, as he curses at the sudden cold. Trying to peel my eyes off his muscled torso and his toned arms turns out to be more difficult than I thought.

"Lupin, you git! It's freezing!" he yells, with emphasis on each syllable.

"Get up, Sirius. It's half past three," I say calmly, trying to pretend that I am unfazed by the gorgeous sight in front of me.

"Merlin, Remus, it's a Saturday," he grumbles, shivering. Sirius sits up, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

"Yeah, well, Wormtail was worrying about waking you up so..." I trail off, shrugging, as I sit in James' bed.

The crease in his eyebrows shows his confusion, as he tries to remember. Then a look of comprehension crosses his face.

"Bloody hell," he utters, digging the heels of his clenched fists into his sluggish – but still stunning – eyes, as he drops back down on his back.

I raise my eyebrows, bewildered at his reaction. Since when has Sirius ever concerned himself with waking up late? The only times he ever did worry about it were the times he was late for –...Oh. Of course.

"So who's the girl?" I ask him routinely.

He uncovers his eyes and turning to me, props himself up on his elbows. "Margaret Kerrigan," he states dismally. "I was supposed to meet her over an hour ago outside the Great Hall."

"Why is this the first time I've heard of her?" I quiz him jokingly, trying to hide the jealousy in my voice.

"Because you're always too busy reading up on nearly-dead people to ever notice girls," he quips, smiling, as he nods toward the tall pile of hard-bounds on my bed.

Margaret Kerrigan, Ravenclaw's Quidditch team captain, is an attractive redhead I have had Arithmancy with for the past three years. I've never talked to her aside from the time she sat next to me in class to ask about James in fourth year. My knowledge only extends to the fact she is frustratingly intelligent and irritatingly funny and her dazzling blue eyes are enough to reel in any boy she wants.

"I know Margaret, Sirius. You know what I mean," I say, trying to keep my tone light.

"Yeah, yeah," he mutters, sitting up and pulling open one of the drawers next to his bed. He grabs a blue sweater and slips into it. He pushes his onyx hair out of his clean-cut face and sighs. "I don't know, I just kind of noticed her now, you know? Thought it was worth a try?"

"How'd you guys meet if you just noticed her now? I mean, you don't have any classes with her and you have never really talked to her, right?" The calmness in my voice is gradually sounding faker and faker.

"Yeah, well, after acing my make-up test in Potions after dinner yesterday – Oh, thanks by the way, mate," he adds, winking at me and taking away my unease for a fraction of a second., "Anyway, yeah, after the practical, I went out to the pitch to meet up with James to tell him about the extra dungbombs I bought off Philip Hearthborne from Hufflepuff for the prank we pulled early this morning. The Gryffindor and Ravenclaw practice schedules got mixed up and I reckon James settled for a friendly practice game – she's an amazing Chaser, by the way. So after the practice, I was walking up to James, who was talking to Margaret. He introduced us, and we got along." He shrugs it off.

I feel more and more discomfort creep up my spine as he talks about her. Forcing a smile on my frozen face, I gather enough composure to speak. "So, what are you gonna do now that you're late for your... date?"

"Not a date," he corrects nonchalantly. "We were just gonna study together. And I haven't got a clue, I guess I can just catch up with her during breakfast on Monday. I'm not really up to facing a miffed girl on a Saturday."

I try to stop myself from letting a relieved smile take over my face. "Oh, okay," I mumble.

Before I could open my mouth to start talking, I hear the door crack open. Sirius and I turn in the direction of the noise to see James walk into the dorm.

James, with another stolen Snitch clutched tightly by his hand, halts at the sight of us talking. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Nah," Sirius replies, standing up. "I was just gonna nick some food from the kitchen. Haven't eaten all day."

"Well that's the kind of thing that happens when you sleep through breakfast and lunch, Sirius," James retorts as he walks over to us and sits next to me.

"How could you not? We got up at four, remember?" Sirius says defensively, as he grabs his wand from under his pillow and shoves it into his pocket. "I'll see you two in a while?"

"Yeah," James and I chime in unison.

"Oh, Remus," Sirius suddenly says, turning to me. "I think you fell asleep on one of your essays again. You've got a smudge of ink on your cheek," he mentions, gesturing to my face.

I blush and my hand flies to my cheek as I try to rub it off.

"No, it's still there, near your lips, on the –"

But before he could finish his sentence, he gives up and reaches over to my face. He tilts my chin up and rubs the ink off with his thumb, slightly brushing against my lips.

I stiffen as the feel of his touch on my skin – on my lips, even – creeps up my spine. I feel warmth in the exact spots his rough fingers make such staggering contact with, speeding my heart up and making my stomach flip. His hands are coarse, but still radiate the comfort that I need. The sensation he gives off sends my head into chaos, but hiding his paralyzing effect on me, I just contain myself enough to manage an, "Oh, thanks."

"Yeah, okay. So anyway, see you two later," he says as he backs away from us.

"Sure," I respond, my shaky voice almost in a whisper, as I ignore James, who is biting down his lower lip to keep himself from laughing.

Sirius walks away, grabbing a jumper from James' bed in the process. The second Sirius closes the door behind him, James falls back onto his bed, clutching his stomach as he erupts into laughter.

I frown and hit him with one of the pillows. His roar decreases into chuckles and taking deep breaths, he eventually controlled himself enough to sit back up, grinning at me.

"Oh, Moony, sometimes I wonder how thick Padfoot has to be to not decode the look on your face whenever he touches you," he says with a tone of mock-contemplation.

"Tell me again why I told you about this," I mutter, glaring at him.

He answers in an instant, "Because, my dearest Remus, you know that I'll support you no matter what, I can help you get him, if you just let me try, and if thirteen-year-old you decided against telling me about this attraction, you'd have no one to talk to about this." His grin grows as he knows that I can see his point. He lies down again and adds, "So if you have further questions, please wait until after my nap because I am knackered."

I stand up, chuckling. James always knows how to make these perplexing feelings seem lighthearted.

I lay myself down on my bed and flip open another book to no particular page. James, from under the blankets he tucked himself in, coos at me jokingly, "I looooove you, my little lovestruck one! Goodnight!"

"Shut up, you arse," I reply from behind the covers of the book, smiling to myself because I can still feel the warm sensitivity pulse through the corner of my lip that felt Sirius' touch.