Pettichaps
‘No,’ Sirius said flatly.
‘But—’ Peter protested, his hands stroking the rat-patterned robes.
‘ No ,’ Sirius insisted. ‘You are not wearing rat robes to the Christmas Ball, Peter.’
‘But I like rats,’ Peter said sadly.
‘And girls don’t,’ Sirius told him cheerfully, ruffling his hair. Peter ducked, scowling, though not before his hair was well and truly ruffled.
As he was hanging up the robes, Peter asked, ‘Just girls?’
Sirius threw him a sharp look, but Peter’s back was turned to him, and when he turned around, his blue eyes were open and guileless.
‘What?’ Sirius asked.
‘Just girls?’ Peter repeated.
‘Y—yes, of course,’ Sirius stammered out, though his heart drummed out Remus, Remus, Remus, and a wicked little voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like his mother whispered, Liar .
‘Hm,’ Peter said, and that was that. James emerged from between robe-racks, holding in his arms rich gold and ruby red and snowy white.
‘Hang on,’ he grunted, rummaging through the robes with difficulty. Peter ran forward to take some of his arms.
‘Thanks, Pete,’ he said gratefully, and pulled out two robes: one panelled gold chiffon, and the other stately, ruffled red.
‘Gold,’ Sirius said instantly, before James even asked. James smiled at him in thanks and raced off to the dressing rooms, the red robes abandoned. Peter dumped the robes in a nearby chair unceremoniously.
James emerged out of the fitting rooms. Sirius knew immediately he’d picked right. He looked like Apollo in his sun chariot, clothed in the golden rays of the run. The gold, coupled with his brown skin, was a colour combination dream. The panels of chiffon were half see through, showing gleaming brown skin but not fully, the panelling making it hazy, with a golden sheen. This, coupled with the opaque rods that held one panel to another, gave an impression of a corset.
‘Oh, wow,’ Peter said softly. ‘James, this is it. You have to buy this one.’
Sirius simply nodded, surveying him, an artist checking for any faults.
James smiled shyly. ‘My dad always used to say gold never looks better than on brown skin.’
‘He’s right,’ Sirius said approvingly. ‘It’s amazing, James, Peter is right. You have to buy this one.’
‘Do you have the jewelry for it?’ Peter asked.
‘I’m Indian,’ James said, chuckling. ‘Oh, I have gold, alright.’
‘Then you’re all settled,’ Sirius said briskly. ‘Sorry, James, but you go bill this and I have to ignore you for a bit to find Remus and Peter something.’
‘And yourself,’ Peter added.
James mimed being heartbroken, then walked off, laughing, to the checkout.
‘Where is Remus, anyway?’ Sirius asked, frowning. He was momentarily distracted, eyes scanning the shop for Remus’ tall, lanky silhouette.
‘Oh, he said something about the second-hand shop,’ Peter said casually, eying the rat robes again.
‘What?’ Sirius blurted out. He felt so unbelievably stupid . Of course Remus would not have enough money to afford brand-new robes, let alone from a prestigious shop like this one. Pettichaps imported it’s robes straight from Paris, for Merlin’s sake.
Peter looked at him sideways. His expression softened. ‘Cheer up, mate,’ he said quietly. ‘He doesn’t want you to remember, you’re fine.’
‘Yeah—but—’ Sirius said miserably. ‘I feel bad for him.’
‘Well, don’t,’ Peter said, uncharacteristically sharp. ‘That’s exactly what he doesn’t want.’
‘Maybe I should offer to buy something?’ he suggested.
‘Sirius, think for a second. Do you honestly think Remus would agree?’
‘No,’ he acquiesced.
‘Exactly.’
Sirius looked at him helplessly. ‘How do you know so much about him?’ His self-deprecating smile took out any venom from the words.
Peter patted his arm gently. ‘Ah, we tell each other things. His entire world doesn’t revolve around you, ya know,’ he said teasingly.
‘I know,’ Sirius said, amused despite something in him saying But I wish it did.
‘Anyways,’ he said, ‘What about you, Pete?’